Snowbowl  a tf2 fanfic
by LigeiaMaloy
Summary: A change of environment can be bad. A changing envoirement even worse. Especially if you don't know what's going. Waiting is not only boring but unnerving sometimes. rated M because adults tend to do adult things. Medic/Sniper, Engineer/Soldier
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note...**

Thanks for clicking on my humble little story ^^ it's not only my first -Fic, but also my first TF2- and my first English fanfiction altogether. Well, the last part you'd probably have figured out pretty soon xD as I have no English genes at all, to my dismay, I had to rely on my skills. A friend with more orthographic discipline helped me hunt for mistakes. But as we are humans, we probably missed enough. So, if you see anything disturbing, spelling/grammar/use-of-words-like, please tell me ^^

I've read many TF2-Fanfiction, and learned one thing: writing accents if you don't know the accent too well might sound unintendedly funny (no German without a speech defect would say "Schniper" ^^). That's why... I chickened out on Sniper's Australian accent ^^ I just haven't got the pattern yet, I'm sorry -_- if you, dear reader, can help me with this, I'd really appreciate it :) I appreciate comments as well, of course. Criticism is welcome, good and bad, but be nice ^^ crying in corners causes mold, and that's rather unhealthy. Basically I need to know if it's a good idea to write down my other ideas for this fandom or if I better burn all my English books and never speak/write this language ever again.

Well, thanks for reading so far, I hope you like my little story ^^ if you need any background-music: "Flamme im Wind" and "Das Schweigen" by Lacrimosa. In case you know the song "First song of the day" by Bela B. and Lee Hazlewood - at the end Lee says "yeah, I know..."... couldn't help imagining Sniper's voice being like this^^

/end author's note

**Snowbowl**

"Because I like them tall and slender" the lean man explained, an unsatisfying answer, almost not worth the angry snort. "What?" he laughed. "Thought I was raving at your beauty? But you know," his mocking grin was actually audible, while his stubble lightly touched the warm, smooth-shaven cheek, lowering his voice to an almost unhearable whisper, "I think you are kinda good looking, for a bloke."

'Cabin Fever.' was the smaller man's unspoken diagnosis, the first thing an always dutiful brain could come up with.

It was supposed to happen, taking the current situation of the whole team into account. Yes, truth to be told, he had been wondering the last few days when the first one of his comrades would start to think he's on a banana tree. But he hadn't expected this outcome, when certain events had taken place a little while ago. Or rather, had not taken place at all.

Fall was coming to an end, and so was the battle. The team had been stationed in Dustbowl since July. The area certainly lived up to its name, an indifferent sun blazing from an equally indifferent sky, sometimes hardly seen by the men trying to survive in the hot, always whirling dust. Dust, that soon had become another enemy who aimed for unguarded eyes and preferably layered thick between mechanical components, wearing down all of them, man, weapon, machine alike. The only good news - their actual opponents had to cope with the same conditions. But as this didn't help them at all it stopped mattering soon.

Their engineer gave up on his constructions after a fortnight, due to the incident. Too many grains had found their way into the fine mechanics of Sasha, Heavy's faithful companion. Both the Medic and Engineer were busy for almost three days, one trying to reconstruct gears, bolts and nuts of the unique minigun, one trying to reconstruct sinews, bones and nerve tracts of a right hand. This day the machinist decided they'd have to do without his Sentries for a while and concentrated on maintaining their weapons and his dispensers. None of them, especially those three involved, wanted to risk another accident like this just because they thought the sand being nothing more than an uncomfortable nuisance. It was dangerous, living and fighting in Dustbowl.

Eventually the fighting ceased, leaving them the only team on the field. Whoever won, it didn't matter for long. The satisfying feeling of victory faded sooner with every battle, and soon they'd be changing places and the fighting would continue. It was good as it was, exciting while it lasted and rather dull when it ended. Another train would come and take them to their new battlefield.

It didn't come. With October the heat finally lost its strength, yet the storms increased, and, to their all surprise, it started to rain. Heavy rain beat the land and changed the so well-known surroundings into something new, even more hostile. The force of the storms, combined with wet sand, dust and debris felt like hail on their skins, another danger, and this one couldn't be fought off easily.  
>So into hiding they went, camping at the first and then the second supply room. Those were built solid and functional, yes, but soon didn't provide enough space for the nine men of their special unit.<br>Nine individuals who weren't, it has to be admitted, always on the safe side of sanity and reason from the beginning. For a while they tried to split the group, five staying at the first supply camp, the other four trying to settle down in the second one, half an hour's march away.  
>This solution didn't work. When recruited many years ago, their employer probably hadn't a situation like this in mind. All of them worked like a clockwork together, but as soon as one gear went missing, the whole balance went haywire. It might be easy to bring a goose, a wolf and a bag of corn to the other bank of the river with one small 2-seated boat, but not a Soldier, a Scout, a Demoman, an Engineer, a Sniper, a Heavy, a Medic, a Pyro and a Spy.<br>There was no real hate, only an almost instinct driven desire, amplified by boredom, to irritate whoever they felt their natural enemy was. It was good to have a natural friend who protects his buddy from harm caused by others and himself. In this case more than convenient – a vital necessity. Maybe dangerous, maybe immature, maybe even a bit childish, but after all their minds lived on the verge of sanity sometimes, and otherwise they wouldn't be half as ingenious in their fields as they were.

To all of them Dustbowl was a battlement within a dessert, at least that's what they knew about it. There never had been assignments after September so nobody had wasted a thought of the Dustbowl outside their fightings. Fall and Winter simply didn't go with Dustbowl, and that was final. Now they lived inside the caves connecting two of the main areas, trying to avoid both cold and madness while snowflakes started falling outside. The caverns proved to be a good choice. Their longish structure and several sharp bends provided at least some distance and privacy while none of them could actually hide from the others for long.

As a war veteran the Soldier felt responsible for the group, or maybe " 'e was airing 'imself as ze big boz just parce que 'e is a grande gueule wiz an ugly, gros casque", as the Spy stated more than once. But he left the position to Soldier anyway, too much work and responsibility, especially for others. The veteran soon was busy calming down little arguments before real fights broke out, and more than once his intervention heated the situation up. Thanks to the support of more laid-back characters like Engineer and Demoman these now daily face-offs ended not always peacefully, but without considerable injuries. Most of the time the source of banter and fights were some shenanigans started by the more short-tempered characters of Scout and Heavy, and Spy, mischievous by nature, and his for his companions awkward sense of humour, never able to resist an opportunity to cause annoyance between his team-mates. The last three of the group, Sniper, Medic and Pyro, didn't mind a good chat or battle of words and wits now and then, but had altogether an indifferent composure, ignoring provocative words or gestures and keeping to themselves.

Subdued fear added to the tension. None of those men would ever admit such a weak, undignified emotion, but it was there. They hadn't received any new instructions or information for almost three months, no sign of the train, no hint that their overdue departure would happen any time soon. As always provisions were delivered on a monthly base, but as it was nothing more than a big crate filled with tins, tools and medical equipment, dropped by a helicopter there was no human contact and no way to send a message. They tried to build a big, reddish-grey "Help" with large boulders a month ago, but the storm covered it with sand first, now with snow. It was impossible to read from mid-air, so they said, inwardly refusing other possibilities.  
>Food was scarce and tasteless, consisting mostly of water, canned food and bread. But it was enough. It was the Engineer's decision to store it away to the closer one of the supply rooms and only having enough for a few days with them in the caverns, so it was easier to keep track and not to run empty too soon just because it was within reach of bored hands. The agreement of saving as many tins as they could because they could never be sure if the helicopters might stop coming as well was a silent one.<br>Cramped as their shelter might be, it brought along an advantage: warmth. Yes, they felt like prisoners, even cattle, but the presence of companions-in-arms and their bodies added to mental and physical warmth. A little bit of security and reliability when a harsh, dry Winter tried to destroy the improvised doors.

Sometimes the small group spent a whole day in silence, listening to the storm while gazing at each other or at red, sturdy walls. On good days the Engineer played on his guitar, sometimes cheerful, sometimes sad little unsung songs, sometimes random notes, constructing unknown melodies. On bad days, he didn't move much at all and there was nothing but the screams of the wind, slashing through the cold, trashing against the door, like a drunk, insane beast. On those days everyone moved closer together, because those days were the coldest. Even a little fire would allow the bellowing beast to bide it's time while their lungs fill with carbon monoxide, having each of them suffocate, one by one.

Now and then there were more relaxed days. The storm calmed down, and snowflakes fell peacefully on the white-covered ground. The cold still lingered, omnipresent, but it didn't feel so threatening, so deadly. A good opportunity to let fresh air into their shelter and to enjoy real warmth from little fires. Pyro had decided to be stingy on gasoline, but he turned out to be very apt to set almost everything on fire only with sticks and stones as well. Demands adjusted to this simple life - a hot meal, fresh air and enough space to stretch arms and legs without getting immediate, angry reactions could create genuine happiness.

Scout and Spy, both restless and in their ways cocky, somehow succeeded in luring most of the little community into a snowball fight on one occasion. Scolding at their low morals and dignity as elite mercenaries, Soldier tried to nip this nonsense in the bud, an attempt that only resulted in becoming the primary target.

This evening, everyone was tired out, not only their bodies - their minds, too, found some rest after relieving bottled up stress. The atmosphere was good-natured and calm, little games of cards and stories went accompanied by laughter even after the doors were shut tight again. Nightfall came unnoticed, but with it the fires burnt down and the increasing dimness lulled one after another to sleep.

It was this night, when the Medic started to cough suddenly. A massive leg, the foot still in an equally massive boot, was placed across his chest, making it hard to draw a breath. Carefully, he had no intention of waking Heavy, he shoved the limp away, suppressing another cough. His glance only met with the pitch black the fires had left behind when they died; only one piece of coal glimmered in an almost persistent manner. A faint, red glow. He didn't really focus on the little gleam, and after a few minutes his eyes got used a bit to the darkness, enough to make out where the bodies of the others were at least, unable to tell who was who. Heavy was the only exception, either the huge frame next to him belonged to the Russian giant, or there were at least three or four Scouts piled up.  
>Sighing, he mumbled a little curse. It never did when he woke up in the middle of the night. All of them snore and once he heard it the mental virus struck him he had the urge to synchronize his breath with the rhythm of breathing of the others - impossible to accomplish. Finally he got up, carefully, one step after another, avoiding to step on one of his comrades or to fall over whatever might be lying on the ground. The wall was not cold yet under his fingers when he reached the first bend. The little piece of coal out of sight now, it was dark around him again, but he was familiar with the caverns, so it would be easy to use his tactile sense as long as he kept close to this wall, and he'd reach the small, but likely empty nook around the bend and hopefully find some sleep.<p>

He gasped when he felt a lean, but strong body squeezing him against the hard stonewall.  
>"Was zum...!" a rough hand covered his mouth from behind, but was removed immediately.<br>"Shhh!" a guttural voice hushed. "Don't wake the others."  
>Annoyed by the fact that he still couldn't move, or even turn around, the German frowned. "Snaiper, don't be trying my paschience, in case you did not notize, you presses me against zis not so comfortable vall." he hissed.<br>"Yes, I know." with a sigh he leaned in even closer, causing the other to swallow down some harsh insults. "No, don't."  
>When the smaller man tried to push him away, he grabbed the Medic's left hand, pressing both their hands against the wall, next to his head. "Don't. You will wake them, Will."<br>The Medic's eyes opened wide against the darkness when he felt the Snipers breath so close to his ear. "Never use my real name, Idiot, you know..." he almost shouted when suddenly the Australian's free hand shut him up again. The grip around his left hand tightened. "The others will hear you. Do you want them to?" the voice almost sounded indifferent, it was impossible to say if it carried a hidden threat, worry or something else the Medic didn't want to think about.  
>He calmed down, trying to speak, against the now slightly loosened grip of their Sniper's fingers, so the words didn't degenerate into a not understandable growl.<br>"Vill zis lead into a battle or vill you back off if I try to break free?" was his rational question.

'Don't panic, don't get angry, avoid rage' he told himself.

"This won't end silently if you object, Wilhelm." there, the matter-of-fact answer, not wasting any words, and the Medic knew his comrade meant what he said. As usual. The rage inside of him was growing, being confined to this one damned area, confined to this cage of a cavern, and now not even be able to move away from the damned cave wall... he didn't want this to happen, wanted to go to his corner, go back to sleep, go on surviving, but if he fought back now, what then? His team-mates would wake up, hearing the commotion while being completely blind. Panic? More fights? The long overdue violent outburst? More than this situation he'd hate not to be able to hate anything in the future, no thank you.  
>Maybe his captor guessed his thoughts, getting to know the patterns in his mind well during the last months. Maybe he was just satisfied when his captive refrained from any further tries to fight back. They could hardly hear the sleeping sounds of the others, and, being just a few steps around the corner, they probably wouldn't even see them if the caverns were alight.<br>The windmills of the doctor's mind stopped abruptly when he felt rough, moisture lips against the side of his neck, the sensation as shocking as the now finally unmistakable revelation of what actually was going on, causing him almost to choke on his own breath. Assured he would keep his voice down the hand was removed so he could draw in the air more easily.

"Don't..."

"Ja ja, ich weiß, I vill vake zem if I don't be quiet." he broke in, his own voice low, dripping with sarcasm. "Do vatever you vant and be done vith it so ve can go back to sleep and lead on our happy lives in paradise." he had to clench his teeth when he felt the firm hand on his hip, trying to find its way under his shirt - a difficult task with almost no space between him and the wall - while the Australian kept on biting his neck. And there was the other hand, still holding his own against the wall, a few inches above his head.  
>"I don't want to rush it." slightly shaking fingertips trailed over the smaller man's muscles, scars, old and not so old, on his chest and abdomen.<br>"I vill get you back for zis, Arschloch..." he got angry at the tingles that ran down his spine.  
>"Is that a promise, Will?" his voice hoarse and demanding, he moved even closer, letting his hand wander downwards, resting on the waistband of the Medic's worn-out pants. He stopped there, leaving the neck alone, suddenly biting the Helix of the other man's ear, followed by a slow lick with his tongue. He could feel how the body next to his own tried in vain to suppress a violent shiver.<br>"I like women..." the strange, foreign voice of the Medic mumbled, more to himself than to anyone else. Sniper gave a short laugh. "So do I."  
>"Zen... vhy does zis happen? Vhy me?" the German tried to press closer to the wall, trying to get away from the increasing heat he felt pressing against his back.<p>

"Because I like them tall and slender" the lean man explained, an unsatisfying answer, almost not worth the angry snort. "What?" he laughed. "Thought I was raving at your beauty? But you know," his mocking grin was actually audible, while his stubble lightly touched the warm, smooth-shaven cheek, lowering his voice to an almost unhearable whisper, "I think you are kinda good looking, for a bloke." With this, he grabbed Medics shoulder, turned him around and searched the man's lips with his own.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note:

Again, too stupid to do accents... as usually I'd be thankful for any help ^^

Names: taken from the official comics (see Engie = Dell) or invented by me.

Sniper is Mr. Nicholas Mundy. Hey, he's Australian, they are in a cave, so he's a Nick, so much for that xD  
>As for Soldier... John Doe. What else ^^<p>

Snowbowl (another silly title ^^) was meant to be a one-shot, but my adorable beta wanted more, so... blame her xD

Seriously. Thank you for your help and patience, my favorite Aizi

Warnings?

Medic x Sniper doing mature stuff because I want them too, SoldierxEngie-Fluff (not too much fluff, I hope.)

Hope you like it

-  
>Translations:<br>Hör auf = stop!  
>Du Narr = you fool<p>

**Snowbowl II – Still waters**

„Say my name, Will."

„Bite me!"

„As you please." And so he bit the German's lower lip. The other man made a sharp, protesting sound while he tried to move his head aside.

The absence of all light didn't give them the chance to get used to the dark, but it took the Australian's fingers only a moment to find the Medic's face again. Instead of turning him back to face him once more, his lips found the exposed throat. A taste of sweat and dust, salty, bitter, firm sinews underneath, so unlike the taste and feel of a woman.

With unease the doctor realized the growing want and impatience of the unfamiliar body still pressing him against the wall. Then he noticed something else.

"Stop, stop, hör auf!" he hissed alarmed.

"No..."

"Stop, Du Narr, zey are avake!" with both hands he grabbed the Sniper's shoulders and held him back from moving even closer. Both men listened.

Two voices, still half asleep and not too distant, had started to talk, but it was impossible to make out the words or who was speaking.

'Do zey not vant to vake anybody or did zey notice something?' were the Medic's thoughts when suddenly the Sniper's lips were close to his ear again.

"Don't make a sound, if you don't want them to find us. In this _situation._"

Oh, he had a sharp remark for this, more than one, but not a word was to be uttered. This time, his own hand closed over his mouth, suppressing his own voice, and he bit on his own finger so he wouldn't cry out when the other man's hand suddenly moved between his legs and he felt a firm, merciless grasp around his...

'WHAT?' he couldn't comprehend what was happening, the strong fingers, the feverish breath of a man against the skin of his throat, oddly hot where the busy tongue left a moist trace just a second before. And the voices still were talking, started moving and it still was dark and his own body he felt trembling.

He got hold of the Australian's hand, tried to stop it but his grip was too limp, still he tried.

There! A faint shimmer of light! 'Soldier! Of course, his flashlight...' he forgot the thought, he only realized his pants were opened when apt fingers searched and found what he was trying to deny underneath the battered fabric. The same moment he faintly heard a heavy door creaking, he bent forward, the grinding of his teeth almost louder than his breath. He tried to regain balance, his hands on the Sniper's upper arms, clenching, his head resting against a bony shoulder.

The voices were still present, a chilly draught failed to cool him down.

"Touch me" the Sniper's voice, even deeper than before, demanded, but he shook his head. He didn't want to speak, didn't dare to, how could this Idiot dare to speak now, how could anybody dare to? Too many voices... he growled deep in his throat when the grip tightened. "Nicholas..."

"Yo, pardner, you really think it's a good idea to check the supplies NOW?" The Engineer shivered. He felt drowsy and a bit angry with the Soldier. Why on earth did this fool have to wake him now, in the middle of the night when he was finally getting a good night's rest without any nightmares?

"Take your orders like a man, Engineer!"

"Duh," was his response, "you and ya orders. Shout them at the kids the whole day but leave me alone with them at this ungodly hour!"

"Thought if you are praying to your god half of the night you might as well make yourself useful." he snorted.

The Engineer looked at him. So old grumpy here had noticed. It was true, most of the nights he lay awake, musing about their current situation while the others were asleep, 'or I thought them being asleep' he corrected himself. Although there was some silent praying involved sometimes, he usually only laid on the back, starring at the dark ceiling, listening to the thoughts running through his head.

"Ain't doing no praying, and certainly not tonight. Thanks for waking me when I finally slept like some darn newborn baby." he almost shouted the last words. He bit back the word 'blockhead' but it was clearly lingering in the chilly air.

They went on in silence, careful not to slip on the ground. While there was fresh snow at daytime it was too cold for snow now. The white, soft cover had become frozen and solid since they had returned to their shelter. The ground was slippery beneath their feet, and hard. An unexpected fall might not only hurt, and none of them found the idea of stumbling through the dark with bruises and broken bones very appealing.

"Why were you awake anyway?" Engineer didn't mind a relaxed silence, but he didn't actually feel relaxed now.

"Heard some noise." the Soldier snapped.

"Are we investigating now? Ya think it's an intruder?"

"No. Two of the boys were busy."

Now the mechanic was puzzled. "Busy? Who and why would someone be busy at this hour? And with what?"

Those confused words made the Soldier laugh. "Really, Dell, have you become THAT old so you, you of all people, need explaining?"

"What do you... Oooh!" he finally realized. "Haven't noticed anything. Who was it?"

"Don't know, don't want to know. Seized the opportunity to get you and me to do something useful."

The smaller man burst out laughing at this. "Yeah, all right, because we usually are to busy to do anything beside loafing so we have ta get going at night. Let me tell you something," he pointed an accusing finger at the man next to him. "Ya got horny and wanted to get outta there, right, ya randy old devil?" laughingly he ducked down when a shovel barley missed his head.

"HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO YOUR LEADER LIKE THAT?" It wouldn't have needed the faint shine of the flashlight to reveal the dark red color of the Soldier's face.

"There, old friend, calm down or do you want to alarm the rest of the bunch?" Engineer lifted his hand to an apologizing gesture. "Don't mind me, buddy, I'm sorry, 'kay?" but he wasn't able to stifle a little laugh. 'Bull's eye.'.

The Soldier gave him an angry look. "We are there. Let's go inside." He was right, they had reached the supply room. It looked so small and abandoned in the darkness. The Engineer found it hard to believe that all of them camped in front of this building just about two months ago, and he couldn't even less believe they ever complained about the heat. Wouldn't he give his left arm for just one hour of the burning sun they had hated so much during summer?

He searched for the switch and only a few seconds later one of the neon lamps flickered. For a moment he worried about the lamp turning dark again, broken, as its twin had been for a few weeks now. But after one, two seconds of darkness it decided to last a little longer and finally stabilized. The cold light was almost as bad as the temperature outside the rectangular room, but at least there was no wind to cope with once the door was shut behind their backs.

With a loud sigh the Soldier sat down on one of the wooden benches. The Texan however started to rummage between filled and empty boxes. "Ah, I knew I saw some of them babies a while ago. Gonna call ourselves lucky Demo hadn't his darn hands on them." with an air of triumph he held two bottles of beer in the air. "Come, pardner, have a drink with me. Just like the old times." with an equally loud sigh he let himself fall next to the American who took one of the bottles without a word. They opened the caps on the edge of the bench, took a long gulp, put the bottle down simultaneously, sighed again. A look at each other and they started to laugh, amused and bitter.

"What took you so long to talk to me in private, John? We've been working together in this team for... already 3 years now!"

The Soldier shook his head. "Two years, 9 months, 23 days as a matter of fact."

"Ha, you haven't changed that much, haven't ya?" unsatisfied with the reaction he gave him a nudge with his elbow. Again there was silence. A minute or two passed by, filled with an uncomfortable tension that felt like hours, until the taller man started to talk again.

"How's your daughter? How old is she now, 18?" he asked.

"Turned 20 last year. Yeah, she's fine. Great girl, pretty 'n clever, just like her Mom. Finished school a while ago, working at some ol' office, dreaming of marriage and children..."

"Just like her father then."

Engineer passed him an inquiringly look. "You haven't forgiven me yet, have ya, John?"

"What do you expect, Dell?" the Soldier, John, took off his helmet, scratched his always clean shaven head. "You woke up that day, ate your stupid toast like every stupid maggot does, revealing you were going to get married, having a family, run a business. Just like that."

"I'm sorry, John, I didn't wanted to..." he sighed. "Who am I kidding. I knew I'd hurt ya, but tried to ignore it. But, ya see, back then I thought hey, we are just some kids foolin' around, just being young, no matter how much I thought I loved ya, well, you know..." the smaller man didn't know how to explain when Soldier interrupted him.

"And you thought of the time and society, of your career as a graduate engineer, the young Texan redneck prodigy and how you would risk all this when you'd continue screwing with this guy you met at the American History Museum one day." His voice sounded neutral on the surface, but Dell, who used to know him so well, could hear the reproach. He took another sip of the beer, enjoying the bitter taste for a second before he answered.

"You are right, but that's not all. I thought of this guy I slept with, the same guy who trained hard and finally got accepted by the army, the guy with the dream and the making of the next national hero. John," he almost begged, "you are right, I was afraid to lose everything I had to work for so hard, and I wished to be a father one day. But I also wished that your dreams came true. Do you really think you'd have had the slightest shit of a chance to become a man of honor when they'd found out you were gay, fuckin' a young Texan redneck prodigy in your spare time, between the wars?" his hands tight around the brown bottle, trying to hide their trembling, he stared down at the bare floor.

"Why did you join the team at all, Dell? Having your pretty wife and daughter and degrees and all? Probably a little house with a white fence and a dog, too." An earnest curiosity and also mockery showed clearly in the Soldier's question.

Dell shrugged, didn't lift the eyes from the greyish tiles. "Figure yourself. Mebbe I felt like a challenge. Needed the money. Linda leaving me might be a reason, too..."

"Wait, what?" John interfered. "She left? Your wife left you?"

His teammate shrugged again. "Yeah. Felt neglected when I spent more time studying, excusing myself 'cause ah had ta get one degree after the other. And tinkering in ma workshop between them. Asked me to chose, her or ma stupid soulless toys. Told her them toys were not soulless and she drew the consequences. Can't say I did grieve long though." With a faint grin he finally answered the Soldiers astonished gaze.

"'course it felt kinda bad to lose the family after I lost so much for them, ya know. But it got myself thinking. I'd played the family man for the longest time, love the girl of course, but it was about time to go on. Searched for a job away from home, had this interview for an Engineer's position, got some info about ma to-be teammates, and made a decision." before he answered the unspoken question he emptied the bottle. "Ah! Nothing like a good drink now and then, right pardner? Anyway," he went on, "Thought about the past long and hard and figured out something. Indeed, I was young back then, but that had nothing to do with what we had. When I made up ma mind to oblige society 'n stuff, THAT was the real sin of my youth... ya know, foolin' ma self..." he leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head, taking a more comfortable, relaxed posture. "To make a long story short, I was thrilled at the chance to see you again, after more than twenty years, to work with you and to _talk._ So could you please say something, now that you've been shouting at the others almost three years while completely ignoring me?"

The veteran straightened his back, putting his helmet next to him, raised a cold hand to touch the stubbly face of his old friend, his expression unusually mellow . "Stop chattering like an old hag then and I'll show you what you missed! The next word I want to hear from your sorry mouth is my name, and it will be loud!"


	3. Chapter 3

_(mini-author's note: translations of German, French and Russian fragments at the bottom of the page)_

**Snowbowl 3 - Birds of a feather**

Darkness returned and nothing more was to be heard, only a short grunting noise and a few mumbled words in Russian; but the sleep-talking giant fell silent again. None of the two men noticed him and their other sleeping comrades anyway, once the door was shut again. Both their attentions centered on the Medic's breathing alone, the one because he tried so hard to keep control of his thoughts and body, the other because he was fascinated with the other man's struggle against the undeniable reaction.

"Don't fight back. You like it, mate."  
>"I... zertainly... not."<p>

"Well, this not so reluctant part of ya body tells my hand something else."  
>The Sniper let his hand slide up and down in a short, abrupt movement, and the German failed to suppress a moan. The larger man licked his lips as his own anticipation grew even more. His tongue moved from the Medic's throat back to his ear, enjoying the short, fought back shivers he felt next to his body. When he spoke his voice had turned more into a groan than a whisper.<br>"Liar." A sharp pain shot through his shoulder when the Medic bit him hard.  
>"Gettin' passionate? This even hurts through my shirt. Don't worry, I can take it. How much more can YOU take, eh?" but he knew he had to ask this himself, too.<p>

It had been too long, the last time he had touched a body, a female body. But after all these months of isolation from the rest of the world he felt desperate in his need to feel another human's skin next to his own. When he saw their Medic move smoothly in the darkness just a few moments ago he didn't think twice, but acted, on the spur of the moment. He didn't expect a man's body to feel so different underneath his hands, and was surprised - the contrary reaction of the German, denial and arousal, turned him on, more than he believed a man ever could. His own clothes grew tighter by the minute, and he yearned for the touch the Medic obviously wasn't willing to give. Again, he tried to push the Australian back.

"Hör auf, Du Idiot... is not good..." it was an useless attempt, half of the words the Sniper couldn't understand anyway, and the push was less than halfhearted.  
>"Make it better then, Will. Touch me already!" he demanded again, but now less patiently, astonished at the urgent ring of his voice. Suddenly his hand let go, only to grab the doctor firmly on the shoulders. He shoved a long leg behind the Medic's, a push, and both fell to the ground, Sniper's fall softened as he landed on the German..<br>"Aaah! That hurts! Verdammter Hurensohn, geh runter... !"  
>"SHHH!" as before, the Sniper's large hand interrupted the other man. "Don't wake them up!" he hissed, and removed his hand, only to replace it with his mouth, licking and biting the other man's lips who, at least, refrained from pushing him away or shouting again. He used his upper body to keep the struggling man to the ground, but as far as he was still able to judge, the Medic's movements, aware or not, not only seemed to try to get rid of him, the way he rubbed against the Australian's lower region was too intense to be all accidental.<br>Greedy and impatient the Sniper continued the forceful kiss, while his free, shaking hand opened his own pants, pushing them down far enough so his heat could meet the other man's. "Don't worry, not gonna rape ya, but have ta feel ya touchin' me now." He was panting, even more when he felt a hand touching his slim hips, pulling him closer. He dragged on the Medics pants, to expose more of his skin, his free hand in the Germans brown, disheveled hair. Suddenly the doctor's body arched under his, and the Sniper withdrew his tongue just in time when the Medic forcefully bit on his own lips, trying desperately not to shout out. The Australian tasted blood when he kissed him again while the sticky, warm feeling between them almost drove him crazy. He groaned, still rubbing against the relaxing, heavy breathing body, while he was more than ready to be released from all the tension and need. A sudden, sharp pain almost made him faint when Medic somehow managed to knee him in the groin.  
>He was roughly pushed aside while he squirmed with pain and frustration, the world filling with bright, hurting colors. For a moment he didn't even hear how the German got back on his feet, dusting himself down and trying to put on his pants. "Vat a mess. Thanks to you, Idiot von einem Sniper, I have to vash myself in the dark before ze others awake." His usual, somewhat arrogant manner was back, still his voice shook a bit.<br>The Sniper swallowed hard, still catching his breath. "Why, you goddamned bastard, why did you...". Despite the darkness he could sense the man glaring down at him for a moment. Then another pain was added when he felt a firm kick in his side.

"Useless Dummkopf. Next time, I vant movie and dinner first." a little laugh, evil and sarcastic, followed by footsteps stumbling over the dark, dusty ground.

"Beer?"  
>"If there's another bottle left, sure."<br>The Engineer nodded, fetching two more bottles from the small crate. He had no idea how late it was, if they had left the cave one hour ago or five. The only thing he knew was that his body yearned for a hot shower. He would even be ready to share. With a somewhat wicked grin on his face he lay down next to the Soldier again who raised a brow when he noticed the other man's smile. "Okay, what stupid scheme are you coming up with now?"  
>The Engineer laughed. "Nothing, pardner, just thought 'bout ma back. Hurts like hell. Either am getting' old or someone had some accumulated needs."<br>"You are getting old then." The veteran stated, also smiling. "Give me that beer." The mechanic obliged.  
>"I bet the others'd freak out if they could see you know."<br>"You mean, naked next to the team's equally naked Engineer while it's still cold like hell's mother-in-law?"  
>"Moron." He grinned at the Soldier's cringe when he put the chilly beer bottle on his stomach. "Nah, to see you, the always shouting bulldog, smile."<br>"And have them lose all the respect, have them thinking they could act up? Forget it." he sneered.  
>"Yeah, yeah, always the leader, I know, I know. Indeed. Just show me your smile now and then, will ya?"<br>"Sure, as long as you don't run away again." the larger man consented, stretching and scratching his belly comfortably.  
>"Grudge bearing donkey." Blushing, the mechanic stared at the greyish blankets. "Anyway, should we get back to the others, before they awake?"<br>Soldier nodded. "Yes, but before, I wanted to talk with you about something. No, nothing like that!" he assured hasty when the other man grinned again. "It's about Dustbowl."  
>For a moment none of them said anything, with grave expressions on their faces.<p>

Finally, the Engineer spoke first. "Yes. We know two things for sure, something's really wrong and we have to get out of here."  
>"Right. Any idea what's happening here?"<br>"Well," the Texan reflected, "as a matter of fact, it just couldn't happen, or shouldn't. This area's climate is harsh alright, but after all it should be steady."  
>"I know," the Soldier threw in, "so either the world changed drastically or..."<br>"...or someone's messin' around with the weather deliberately." the Engineer finished.  
>"Although I don't like both explanations, I assume it's the second theory. Which leads to the next question." Frowning, he took another gulp of the beer.<br>"Yeah. What's our part in this experiment? Does our presence just happen, or do they want us to be here?"  
>"Well, I daresay we identify the reason once we get out of here, the sooner, the better, before the others lose it. Honestly, I'll probably snap before them..." The frown on his forehead even deepened.<br>The Engineer placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Not as long as I'm here, got it, John?"  
>The veteran couldn't help smiling at his friend's serious face. "Thanks, Dell. Anyway, I made up my mind. We escape as soon as we can. Still, we have to figure out a few things beforehand."<br>"Hm, well, John, ah got some ideas maself, but couldn't quite come up with the one right answer or strategy. Ya know, I think we should discuss this with the others." It was obvious that the Soldier wasn't too happy about this idea.  
>He saw himself as the leader of their pack, and, in his book "Soldier" was close to "solution", so he felt it was his responsibility to come up with something. Talking to the others first was like admitting he was clueless right away.<br>Yet he knew the Engineer was right. Something was more than off, and none of them had dealt with a situation like this before. Hence their profession as mercenaries, they lead a dangerous life, but usually the answers were easy: Kill your enemy or die. Get the required item or fail. Get away before the detonation or be blown to smithereens. The happy end was not always in an arm's reach alright, but at least how to get there used to be as clear as day.  
>This time, however, it seemed that all possibilities might be a one-way ticket to their destruction. So yes, Dell was right, he would have enough time to restore his pride once they left this frozen dump behind.<p>

"I agree. Let's return and talk to them after breakfast." he finally declared, reluctantly.  
>"Good. Now? Or another beer?"<br>The Soldier shook his head. "Nah, at daybreak is safer, we should be back before they notice we were gone anyway, knowing those lazy slackers. And now," he grabbed the Engineer's wrist and pulled him back down, his eyes flashing, just when the man was about to stand up, "forget about the beer and let's see what can be done about that back of yours."  
>"Alrighty then, now I'm positive about not just being old..."<p>

As if to mock the pitch black night the morning was too bright. No clouds were to be seen, yet it was still as cold as ever. The world around them was white and frozen. The temperature increased slightly, but not for long, and the hardly melted snow from the day before had lost whatever softness had remained overnight. By now the ground was covered with a massive, glittering mirror of ice. The reflected sunlight forced the two men to shield their eyes, turning to walk back over the frozen surface into a challenge. More than once they had to rely on each other's reflexes and help, or both of them would have fallen down. Of course it was not much more dangerous than in the darkness, probably even less, but although they knew about the risks at night, they were more aware of them at daylight.  
>After almost losing his grip for the third time on the slippery ground the Soldier clung to the Engineer's shoulder for support. As soon as they reached the door, they passed a reassuring look, a short smile and backed away from each other. The Soldier reached for the door – or what they used for a door, some planks nailed together, large enough to cover the open entrance of the cave, with a handle on each side. They had fixed it by leaning a large boulder against it, so they had to shove it to the side in order to open it. The walls were too solid for fastening a real door construction with hinges or a door frame, and as they had to cover three entrances and exits against the harsh and icy wind they had had with a quick solution. As it worked, though a bit heavy to handle for the less sturdy of them, they left the doors as they were.<p>

They arrived just in time. Before the war veteran could touch the outside handle the door slowly moved aside and they were facing their Heavy.  
>"ΠρИВеТ, out of way now!" the large man shoved them aside, hurrying around the corner to the improvised bathrooms.<br>"Well," the Engineer concluded, "everyone has his needs I guess." This obviously urgent matter cleared, they entered the cavern. The stifling air surrounded them as soon as they were in. With a group consisting of men only sleeping in a close place a certain staleness couldn't be prevented, even if they aired the shelter on a daily base. A little fire didn't really add a refreshing aspect. But at least it wasn't too cold in here, and there was light.

None of the men was asleep anymore, but most faces were still far from being awake.  
>From the corner of his eye, the Soldier seized them up, wondering who were the guys from last night, making those unmistakable sounds. Not that he cared, though. He knew none of them being gay, but on the other hand, he had never spent a thought on his teammates' love life before. He knew a bit about the Spy's doing, but so did everyone else, as the Frenchman didn't hold back with his stories, if they wanted to listen or not. Now that the Soldier thought about it, probably half of it was made up anyway, so it was likely they didn't know that much about it after all.<br>The Engineer had taken place next to their Demoman, looking as suspicious as the rest of them. 'Face it, John,' Soldier said to himself, 'we are a gang of oddballs, all of us look suspicious for one reason or another.' This wasn't really a satisfying conclusion, but had to do for now. He thought he could feel some tension between Pyro, Scout and the Spy, but that was nothing new, and their Medic and the Sniper didn't seem to be on good terms with each other, old news as well.

He waited a few minutes until Heavy's return. Finally he cleared his throat, demanding their attention. The men fell silent and looked at him, all but Scout, who still shouted at the Spy. "Man, if ya got a problem move ya French ass outta here, stupid son of a frog-bitch!". Unimpressed, the recipient of those uncertain terms, continued checking his equipment. "Do not worry too much about mon derrière, mon ami, ou les autres might guess you actually like it.".  
>Turning crimson with rage the short-tempered boy was about to attack their Spy, while the Pyro's muffled laughter caused Engineer and Demo to giggle, too.<br>"I TAKE IT OUR ENERGETIC BOSTONIAN LADYBIRD WANTS TO DIG A NICE PATH TO THE SUPPLYROOM THEN!" the Soldier screamed at him, also as red as a beet. The Scout shut his mouth at once, sitting down in a subdued manner. He had to experience the Soldier's wrath several times first handed during their stay, and he didn't feel too excited about another stupid, but nevertheless strenuous punishment. Especially in this cold. No thank you Sir, he wasn't fond of low temperatures anyway.

"Good." the Soldier's face turned back to it's normal color slowly. "Boys, I expect everyone to assemble here after breakfast as we have to discuss something with outmost priority over our everyday schedule."  
>"Ev'ry day schedule, yeah right. Bickering 'bout food 'n taking a piss in the cold, fine schedule OUCH!" the Sniper held his side, his face a pained grimace, when Demoman slightly nudged him with his elbow. A vein on their leader's forehead had started to pulsate alarmingly. Medic, standing next to the Sniper, bent down, with a friendly smile on his face. "Stay patient, dear Herr Sniper. Mein ist die Rache, sprach Gott." he whispered, his voice calm, almost soothing, like advising a child.<p>

Nobody asked what the meeting should be about, it was evident that finally the matter about ending their forced sojourn had to come up. A feeling of uneasiness but also relief showed in all their eyes.  
>"Well then," Engineer threw another piece of wood into the fire. "Who's turn is it to make breakfast t'day? I'm starving here."<p>

****** to be continued ******

**author's note:**

Wow, my oneshot has three parts now oO amaaazing. I don't know if I really like this part, I certainly like parts of this part. And guess what, I'll continue xD  
>I still suck at accents, but who cares? (actually, I do ^^)<br>And I suck at writing steamy stuff because I hate using cliché expressions and words xD  
>Somebody changed the point of view, though. It wasn't me, really (why isn't there an evil twin to blame if you need one? ^^)!<br>As usually I'm open for comments and corrections, especially language-wise ^^  
>And here comes what you all have been waiting for (not.), translations, as they appear in the text:<br>"Hör auf, Du Idiot" - stop it, you idiot!  
>"Verdammter Hurensohn, geh runter" - damned son of a bitch, get down!<br>"Idiot von einem Sniper" - Idiot of a Sniper  
>"Dummkopf" - imbecile<br>The first word Heavy says - according to .cc it's Russian for "Hello", but I have no idea if this is right, so if it's wrong, please tell me ^^  
>The Spy:<br>"about mon derrière, mon ami, ou les autres" - about my behind, mein Freund, oder die anderen...  
>"Mein ist die Rache, sprach Gott" - Venegance is mine, saith the Lord (a quote from a German poem, might originate from the bible, I don't know ^^)<p>

Thanks for reading

**/author's note**


	4. Chapter 4

_[auther's note]_ translation follow at the end.

Warning, large text ahead ^^ I hope this isn't too boring, suddenly I felt that I need something like plot. I'll do my best to make the next chapter more slashy, but I won't make a promise that I succeed, in short, I'll try to try xD _[/end auther's note]_

Snowbowl 4 – shootin' stars

Breakfast was a dull affair. Almost half of the men did look like they had stayed awake all night, their eyes bloodshot and tired. They knew their reasons, the rest was left in the dark, but even those with a more self-centred personality felt the tension, although they chose to ignore it. If something wasn't shared with the team, it wasn't important for the team. Usually Spy would find out anyway, sooner or later. There were more serious matters to deal with. First of all, Scout and Demoman shared today's cooking duties, not actually what could be called a lucky start of the day. The monotonous diet of canned food and by now hard bread was a challenge in itself. With Demo's individual touch, probably caused by his almost destroyed sense of taste thanks to his constant abuse of alcohol, and Scout's absolute inability to wipe up something edible at all, the culinary adventure was everything but not tolerable for breakfast.

Even Heavy stopped after a few bites, shoving his plate away from him. "Who made cooking plan was stupid, should eat all leftovers." he growled, passing a sharp look at the Soldier who failed to notice, eating his whole serving, also failing to notice the peculiar taste, his thoughts circling around their options only.

Cleaning duty was delayed. The last 30 minutes were enough for the sky to darken, the temperature fell even more and the wind increased. So the dirty dishes were set aside and the doors closed, leaving them with nothing else to do than maintaining their weapons, surrounded by a warm and gloomy light, with the little camp fire as the only light source. The howling of the raging storm didn't help to lighten their general mood and so they sat in silence.

Soldier watched his team for a while. Those silent days happened more often lately, creepy and awkward, so unlikely the usual swanky, boisterous but good natured behaviour of this lot. It was about time, high time, the tough got going again.

The second time today he cleared his throat until each of them interrupted his current work and paid attention to him.

"Ladies! We have to face the fact that we cannot stay here forever..." he began and a babel of voices broke loose.

"Firgot ye fact, wi gotta git our sirry asses outta here before dine..!" A shout from Demoman.

"Travellin' in this fuckin' cold? Gotta be kidding me, ya old fart!" A protest from Scout.

"Yeah right, let's just grow some wings and fly away." A sneer from Sniper.

"Idea is good! Let's get out soon as possible!" A claim from Heavy.

They stopped for a second, looking at each other but before Soldier had a chance to continue his speech they went on again, shouting, complaining, mocking each others objections or suggestions.

Only Pyro and Medic kept out of the argument. Pyro's face like always unreadable, hence his mask, while Medic was calmly watching the Soldier, who soon took part in the argument, trying to drown the other voices with his own, when finally the Engineer interrupted, his own face showing a mixture of worry and amusement. He didn't even shout. In fact, he spoke with a lower volume than the others, but his calm, sharpened tone was so out of place, so different from the rest, that he easily caught their attention. They soon stopped the fight and listened.

"Here, buddies, let's get some things straight. We are stuck in the middle of nowhere, without information, without contact to the rest of the world. It's cold. That's the situation.

We don't want to die here, so we have to get out, sooner or later, that's what we want.

So far, so easy, but now it's gettin' complicated." He sighed. The list of the obstacles was long.

"Can't you just buil us something to get us out?" Scout asked, Demo and Heavy nodded in agreement.

Sighing again, Engineer continued. "Thought of that, too, o' course. It's like a darn puzzle always missing the final piece. Could build us a thing that looked like a car, got even them old tires lying around here, but ain't havin' all components for an engine. Can't build a plane or 'copter for all of us, not even for one, gotta admit that, even if I had an engine."

"So, dig tunnel we must then, right?" the others grinned at Heavy's little, silly joke, glad to relieve some of that anger and frustration.

"Oh, you think survival is a laughing matter, maggot?" Shaking his fist, Soldier was about to release another of his unique punishments, but Engineer pulled him back.

"What about the helicopter, there has to be a way to use that fuckin' thing..." Sniper threw in.

"Suggestin' wi shoot this thing from the sky?" Demoman gave a sarcastic laugh. "Waddya plan, laddie, heedshotting it like a giant dragonfly?"

"Fine! Take it you have a better idea, so let us in, please, mastermind!" the Australian retorted and another quarrel was about to start, but this time Soldier calmed them down in time.

"Sniper is onto something there, I think." His remark made the others turn their heads towards him. Of course everyone had considered something similar, at least every time the support helicopter was above their heads.

"Why haven't we thought of it before? Why don't we shoot that damn thing down?" asked the Scout with honest astonishment. Spy slapped him on the back of his head.

"Imbecile, you never think about les consequences, non?"

"Of course, the damn thing might explode, and everything's nada. And don't hit me, asshole!" he protested.

"This is one risk, correct." Engineer nodded. "Besides the risk to kill a not involved person."

"Who gives a fuck, we kill people all the time, who cares about one more... ouch! Stop that!" Angrily Scout glared at the Frenchmen.

"Taise-toi, chiard, and develop some ethics. Go on, Engineer, explain to le petit enfant."

"Damn right. We are mercenaries after all, and no crazy mass murderers. Anyway, there's another problem, we don't know WHY we are trapped here, if it was an accident..." He paused.

"...zen ve should have heard from our employers by now, nicht wahr? And vhen not, zen a dizappearing helicopter could alert zem. Maybe zey won't be all too happy wiz us. Iz zat vhat you are thinking, Herr Engineer?"

"Yes. That's what we have to take into account." answered Soldier instead. "A violent act could remind them of us, or alert them. Everyone is our enemy now..."

Engineer interrupted:"COULD be..."

With a puzzled look the veteran stopped, before he understood and continued.

"Everyone could be our enemy now, it's vital for our survival to be prepared for this possibility. Anyway, Engineer, please go on." He handed over to the man next to him.

"As a matter of fact, as much as I dislike the idea, I think, too, we have to high-jack the helicopter. I'm afraid the pilot could be injured or die, but as I see it we are in a desperate situation."

The other kept silent, all their faces showing agreement and disagreement at once. Proud as they might be, they knew their business was shady, and without clear codes of honour, moral and ethics their trade would deprave to a bloodstained chaos. But they also saw they were slowly running out of options.

"Who shall shoot down helicopter? Sasha strong enough, but is too high." conceded Heavy, albeit reluctantly.

"We need parts and that engine, and no sieve, even IF your girlfriend could reach the fuckin' clouds." Scout snapped, making sure _he_ was out of _Heavy's_ reach. But the Russian didn't pay attention to the boy. With a nod he urged Engineer to go on.

"Have thought 'bout that. With a bit of modification I could enlarge the range of Soldier's rockets here. Sure, they'd lose a lotsa power, but the odds are good that it's gonna work." Engineer drew some crinkled blueprints out of his pocket.

Sniper shook his head.

"I have a hunch you've already planned this stuff, no matter what we say anyway?" But the Texan only smiled.

"I tried to plan every thing possible since the train didn't come. Had nothing to do and thought this might come in handy some time sooner or later."

"Alors, sum it up, shall we? We shoot the 'elicopter down, you zee what you can build, and you build it le plus tôt possible, before zee ozers who might be les enemies arrive, oui?" Spy concluded.

"That's pretty much it, in a nutshell, Spah, yeah." The Engineer nodded.

"Bon. Mais, when shall zees facétie 'appen? Shall we proceed as soon as possible ou wait until spring?"

Soldier and Engineer both shrugged, and the Texan spoke again: "Any point of time has its advantages. Spring sounds good as the weather'd make things easier to handle, and travelling lotsa more convenient. But after all, we are in the middle of the wastelands, winter shouldn't be here from the beginning, so how can we be sure spring comes at all? Besides, at some point we don't know the provisions might stop..."

"Nun," the Medic coughed slightly, "the last flight vas due four days ago, in case you haven't noticed." Everybody stared at him. They hadn't kept track of time for a while at all, as they realized now.

"Well then, this settles it." Soldier stood up. "Engineer, bundle up, we go to the supply room, checking the rocket launcher, I want you to finish the job yesterday. Medic, Demo, you tag along and take stock of our provisions and equipment. The rest of you... fire up your tiny brains and report any idea of value to me ASAP. Oh, and clean this dump up, it smells like a puma cage in here.

"There, she's almost ready, ain't she a beauty?" Removing the sweat from his forehead with his gloved hand, Engineer pet the rocket launcher in front of him with a satisfied grin. The last two days he almost became desperate, as his plans didn't work out as they should, according to his prints. The cold had affected some of the components with an unexpected severity and he had to alter and tweak a thing or two, but in the end everything turned out as he hoped it would. 'What can I say, I am a genius after all.' His grin widened. He picked the weapon up, checked its weight. It was a lot heavier than before, a bit too heavy for him to handle with ease, but Soldier should be fine. 'John will love it.'.

"Don't waste zis food, Du Idiot." the Medic snarled at the Australian and snatched a large tin of canned beans from his hands. "Ve had breakfast two hours ago, vait until dinner, Vielfraß." He turned around and walked away, ignoring the Sniper's sulky stare piercing his back. The German had soon become a main source of annoyance. Most of the time he ignored the Sniper, not talking to him at all, sometimes they exchanged angry glares and sometimes the Medic was utterly nice, too nice. Those moments were the most scary, and Sniper didn't feel comfortable at all. He skipped most of his breakfast because he didn't feel hungry then. With a frown he noticed the return of the nagging headache. He didn't sleep well lately, sometimes not able to find a relaxing position at all, and when he managed, he didn't trust the sleeping sounds in the dark. But no, there was no way he was really scared, of course it was just the hunter inside his head who demanded him to be on his guard, nothing but reflex and instinct the Australian convinced himself. A dull pain hammering behind his forehead, his stomach growling he wasn't in the mood to argue with himself or the Medic anyway, so he decided to occupy the corner next to Pyro and Scout, who were busy accusing each other of cheating with their game of cards. Maybe he could find some rest now.

"C'me on, ald feer, gimme a hand."

Pyro made a muffled sound no normal man could have understood. After two years, Demoman, as the others, had gotten used to it.

"'course this will work, dun worry."

Together they somehow managed to carry six old tires at once. Although they had freed them from snow and ice the rubber was still hard. They wondered if those might work at all or if sand, heat and the cold had tired the material. This was a problem the engineer would have to solve, for now six old, porous tires were caught between the bodies of two men.

A distinctive burst of laughter like this could only belong to a man like Heavy. He didn't get tired of telling his team mates over and over again how Pyro and Demoman tried to carry six tires between them, looking like a mutant caterpillar, when Demoman slipped and all tires rolled first over Pyro and then down the hill. After the third time he retold the event the others rolled their eyes, but whenever it came to the part when one tyre hit the Spy in the back they joined the laughter. Pyro, Demo and Spy tried their best to ignore them.

"Kindsköpfe."

Medic ticked off another point on his list. Blankets, several kitchen knives and other cooking equipment, spare clothes, most of them as worn down as those on their bodies, three still working flash lights, seven not working...

He had been counting and recounting their resources since the morning. Of course there was enough junk they could leave behind. But with the items, tools, weapons in a good shape, the ones with a useful purpose and those that could be useful in the right hands were still far too much to take along. He wouldn't allow any argument about the food rations. And there was his medical equipment. Sure, it was unlikely he would have to execute an ambulant surgery, dental treatment or heal cases of scarlet fever or measles but who knew... "Man hat schon Pferde kotzen sehen..." No, he certainly would not tolerate any abridgements of his tools once they would leave. After all, this was his trade, and the others better accepted that.

If everything worked out like planned, many more decisions would await him. What to take along, when to start, where to go, how to proceed at all. For now the Soldier was forced to wait, because without the helicopter they didn't know what they could use, and even then none of them could tell what Engineer would be able to build. Waiting, waiting, waiting.

He couldn't stand to be around the others. He didn't even feel comforted by spending time with Engineer, the Texan was busy and he... useless. 'Might as well steel my mental power.'

Thanks to a co-lab of Engineer and Pyro the pipes in the shower-room still worked, even though their device didn't provide enough power to heat the water up. Just what Soldier needed now, a refreshing shower feeling like thousands of sharp needles on his skin, the best way to clear his mind.

"Hey, boy!" he suddenly shouted. "Come here at once!"

Everyone yawned, feeling a strange kind of exhaustion. Physically they hadn't worked out as much as they wished, but the strain of waiting was worse than before. Scout was still shivering. He cursed this day, his great idea of getting away from the group and finding a peaceful spot to relax. How could he have guessed he would run into Soldier, just when he was sneezing. "Damn old son of a bitch-fart..." the Bostonian muttered to himself. Spy raised an eyebrow, but chose to listen to Heavy once more so the boy wouldn't notice his chuckle. All of them were amused when they learned how the teen was dragged away by Soldier, who suddenly had decided Scout was too much of a sissy and needed some mental and physically strengthening. Namely, taking an ice-cold shower, for no less than 30 minutes. Medic had growled at the veteran, not really out of pity, but because he felt treating the boy against the first signs of frostbite rather annoying. The German seemed to be easily annoyed by most things recently, the Spy thought. He would investigate this matter indeed, later. When their time of escape would be there.

"Ha! Dell, you are a genius!" The Soldier laughed as he wielded the upgraded version of his favourite weapon.

"Well, ain't it the truth." Smiling, the Texan patted the veteran's shoulder.

Four days had passed and Engineer had finally decided that his new project was done and ready for a test run. He woke Soldier in the morning, briefed him with the new features and downsides. Handling the launcher became even less flexible. A strong foothold was required, or it would be impossible to aim at all. The weapon became heavier and had to be reloaded after each shot. But the range was more than doubled and should be long enough now. Yet the power didn't have to be decreased as much as Engineer feared. It fired the rockets strong enough to reach the needed height, but would lose about 25% of its strength when fired vertically after the first half of its flight, which should soften the impact enough not to blow up the whole helicopter.

The last hour they had practised aiming, first horizontal, than upwards. After three rather unsteady shots Soldier got the knack of it and, significant for him, mastered the weapon forever.

The bang of the bullets soon woke the others who joined the two men, being impressed.

Escape suddenly seemed a lot closer, even if this might only be the smallest step. It would get harder from now on. If only the helicopter came soon. Day by day their meals seemed to be smaller.

Obviously the Engineer's achievement with constructing the weapon triggered a lucky streak. Only one day later the weather was crisp and clear, with a bright blue sky stretching above their heads. Even the wind had decided to take a rest for today and a chilly but soft breeze lingered between the massive walls and buildings. For a moment the team forgot about the helicopter, some even followed the Soldier's example and joined him taking a shower. Truth to be told, none of them endured this procedure longer than five minutes. Spy and Demo were about to return to the cave, shivering violently, when they heard the distant staccato of the copter's rotor blades.

Spy gave a start and sprinted back to the showering facilities, returning with Soldier just seconds later.

"Let's go let's go let's go!" Scout shouted, with Engineer in his tow, who hauled the rocket launcher.

Suddenly the world turned into a blurry ball rotating too fast. After all the waiting, all the time spent doing close to nothing, the fast action reached almost worrying levels, and nine hearts seemed to beat in unison. A few seconds later the moment they anticipated was over.

A big bang, smoke, a voice screaming.

Debris falling from the sky, forcing them to take cover behind boulders and shacks, shielding their heads from sparks and metallic slivers.

With an ear-shattering sound and ground-shaking impact the large body of metal crashed to the ground, splitting the icy surface underneath with the blades still running, producing ugly, screeching sounds every time they collided with the ice.

Small flames flashed up, soon increasing, when the Engineer regained his senses. Luckily he had advised Scout to bring an extinguisher along and he prayed to god he could reach the wreck in time before severe damage was done. With a shudder he noticed that the pilot was the first and only part of their prey who caught fire. The faint cries of pain would echo in his head for quite a while, even when all of this would be over. Without further ado he put out the flames and dragged the limp body out of the helicopter, careful not to be decapitated by the rotor blades.

"MEDIC!" he shouted against the raging screams of the still hard working engines. Now the rest of the team woke from its trance and ran to the Engineer's aid, the Medic ahead of them, his bag ready. By two they carried the pilot into safety and at once the German examined the injuries.

Everyone was bustling now, Engineer returned to the wreck, nodding approvingly at Scout, who was already busy short-circuiting the vehicle to make the engines stop. In the blink of an eye the speed of the rotation decreased, the engines flooded with a coughing sound. Two minutes later the Texan was already busy dismantling the helicopter bit by bit, assisted by many helping hands, while Medic was still tending to the unconscious body.

The burns weren't too serious, mostly of the first degree, only a few maybe second, probably not even leaving lifelong scars, he had seen worse. The rattling, gargling breath worried him more. He ripped away the jacket and the shirt, carefully pressing his hands against several parts of the torso. The area around the man's ribcage gave way far too easily, definitely broken. The skin turned already dark where the blood of torn up blood vessels gathered. The Medic sighed and churned out a number of German curses. Inner injuries, probably caused by a rib piercing the lunge. As soon as he finished the thought the man started to cough, blood spluttering from his mouth. "Come on, wach auf, mach schon..." He slapped the pilot a few times, until he finally regained consciousness.

"Breath slowly, your ribs are broken." he hissed, pressing the man down when he arched with pain. "Slow, slow, that's better."

The pilot coughed again, spitting more blood. "Wh..what... happened..."

The Medic pondered on the answer for a second. The reason why he woke this guy at all was simple – he wanted some answers. Healing or dying, both would work while the man was asleep, but Medic didn't intend to wait and see if his patient recovered at all. Now, the truth wouldn't induce the pilot to tell anything of importance.

"You are in Dustbowl. Your Hubschraub... helicopter... had an accident, ze blades stopped for zome reazon. Who iz your boss, who sent you?" he inquired.

"Why... you... who are you...?" The man gave a rattle, the unmistakable death rattle the Medic was afraid to hear so soon from him.

"I'm ze doctor, I help you. Who are you? Who sent you?" He asked again.

"Name.. is.. Jordan... the company..." His eyes lost focus.

"What's ze name of ze company?" The German had to stop himself not to shake him but the pilot had passed out again. "Vell, at least he's still alive, for now."

With a sigh he filled a syringe with a crystal clear liquid, tipped twice against the little container to make sure no air bubbles remained and injected the stabilizing agent, hoping he could keep up the circulatory system long enough to question him later for a second time. Until then he would try his best to treat the injuries as good as possible. 'And necessary' he added in his mind. His instinct told him this man was behind hope, and it would be silly to waste too many resources and time on him. He assured himself that everything was done that could be done for now, pulled a blanket over the bandaged body and finally stood up. He joined the rest of their team, checking if none of them were hurt by the debris or any other sharp edges of the metal parts and treated them where needed.

All of them worked until late in the night, for once immune to the cold and returning wind. Medic checked on his patient every few minutes, the last time, close to midnight, he came upon nothing more than a bandaged corpse. The man had never regained consciousness again. The doctor grimaced at the dead body in frustration. He didn't like the fact they had actually violated the unwritten code of ethics, but even more he was vexed about not being any wiser. Maybe a little shift of the angle of incidence, maybe only a few inches when the helicopter came down, and the pilot would have survived and giving them answers now. Well, nothing he could do about it. He beckoned for Heavy, who helped him to carry the corpse outside the cave where the Russian dug a shallow grave in the ice.

So the existence of a human from the outside world became soon unreal, as most of them put the unknown guy they only looked at for a few seconds out of their minds. The less they brooded about him, the better. There still was a lot of work left to do, they hadn't even started to remove the engines from the copter, but it was too dark and too cold now, and all of them needed sleep. Soldier threatened Engineer to have Medic giving him a sedative shot if the Texan didn't calm down and took a rest, and finally the shorter man gave in. But with his eyes closed thoughts were running in his head again, taking apart things and putting them into new places all night.

The men fell silent like one, and no sound was to be heard until the next morning.

At daybreak the Engineer left the cave before anybody else woke up and resumed his work. They got still lucky with the weather, although grey clouds covered the sky, the sun broke through here and there, cold and unpleasant, but without a storm brewing. Soldier was the next to awake, hearing the distant sounds of the Texan's tools working on metal. It took him only a few shouts and insults and the rest of the team soon joined him and the Engineer, helping were they could. Or at least they tried. Too many hands caused more harm than good, and it didn't take long until their efforts only resulted in chaos and slash wounds.

"This won't do," Engineer finally put an end to this mayhem. "Soldier, Heavy and Sniper, you help me here, the rest of you, go back to the cave. Fix up some food, ain't no good working with an empty stomach. After that, polish your weapons, play hide and seek, whatever, but stay outta ma way!"

Work progressed satisfactorily. A few hours later the wreck didn't resemble a helicopter any more. Scout said, the remaining framework reminded him of the skeleton of a chicken, the others agreed. It was a sad sight, yet several piles of different metal parts looked promising to their eyes, and the Engineer's pleased smile agreed with them. He was even able to retrieve the radio transmitter from the wreck, it seemed damaged, but he would give it a try, maybe he could fix it. If not, there were enough other helpful components for his use. The blueprints in his mind took already shape of something useful he could build.

"Yo, Demo, Sniper, gimme a hand with the engine, gotta carry it to the cave next to the supply room!" The two men took hold of the bulky, heavy construction, waiting for the signal.

"Ready? Heave-ho!" the Texan ordered.

They braced their muscles and almost lost grip of the precious device when Sniper suddenly dropped on his knees, his face struck with pain.

"Bloody hell, what's wrong with ya, laddie?" Demo shouted.

"Nothin', just a darn... muscle cramp..." Staggering, the Australian tried to stand up again, holding his side.

"Ya sure?" Engineer looked at him with a doubtful expression not unlike Demo's. Before Sniper could answer, the Scotsman stood next to him, pressing a hand against the Sniper's hurting side.

"AAAAH GODDAMNED sonofabitch!"

"Ye were holdin' back for a few days now, right? Gertcha and see the quack." Demo ordered. "No use for an injured twerp here."

"Geez, I certainly won't go to..." Before Sniper could finish his sentence, he heard Engineer already call for their Medic. "Shit."

"Was is it, Engineer?" the German asked indignantly, when he spotted the chalk-white face of his teammate. "Oh je," he suddenly smirked. "Do ve have a little problem there, Sniper? Better come back with me."

"No thanks, I'm fine, get lost now." the Sniper snapped back, however, his protest was ignored as Demo had already started to drag him back to the shack next to their cave, where Medic stored most of his equipment. "I'll bring Heavy along, he's the better guy for the job anyway."

Engineer nodded.

The shed wasn't large, with all the medical devices scattered over boxes and shelves, and a makeshift cot, the room was really cramped and too small for three men. Demo left as soon as he put Sniper down on, searching for Heavy. The Australian felt uneasy, knowing pretty well the man before him was still bearing a grudge. Yet he wasn't ready to give up the control of the situation. He gritted his teeth, almost looking like a shark when he smiled. "Finally alone again, are ya happy?"

Medic only raised an eyebrow, his face otherwise still serious and unaffected. "Vhat iz the problem? Vhere doez it hurt?"

"Gaaah, playin' the ever unimpressed, passionless Doctor, eh, Will? Hiding this other side... aaah!" Again a sharp pain interrupted him, when Medic poked merciless and without any caution his hurting side.

"Shut up, get out of zat coat and lay down."

Sniper choked back a cutting remark and obliged. He flinched when the Medic pushed up his shirt and he could feel cold fingertips on his skin.

Medic shook his head when he beheld the bruised skin. Anger mixed into his voice while he applied more pressure than necessary to the rib cage, remembering he had done the same less than a day before, with not so pleasant results. He hated unpleasant results, especially if he had to deal with the same sources within a short time.

"A rib fracture, you are lucky zey haven't pierced your inner organs, or you'd be coughing blood like ze pilot last night. How on earth did that happen?" he ranted.

Sniper looked at him in amazement. Then he started to laugh. "Are ya kiddin' me? Or has the cold affected your memory? You kicked me pretty hard that night". His laughter turned into coughing, then a whimper when the German firmly pressed his hand against the broken rip.

"Du Vollidiot! Don't tell me you run around with a broken rib for a week now!" he almost shouted.

"Thought... it would... go away..." the Sniper gasped. The cold fingers, resting on his skin now, felt good, cooling the injury.

"Vell, it didn't. And it von't for a vhile. Sit up, remove the shirt." He turned around, searching for some bandages and soothing ointment.

"He, ya should have talked like that last time... hey!" he protested when he was hit by a clipboard on the back of his head.

"I talk like zis next time vhen I break another of your ribs. But for now.." And without a warning he forcefully pushed against the broken bone, making the Sniper scream out of pain. "What the..." the Australian gasped.

"The rib was already healing, but in ze wrong position. Had to break it again and now I'll shove it in its place." With a sadistic grin he looked down on his patient. "Need an anaesthesia? It vill give you a nice dream and you von't feel anything."

Sniper hastened to shake his head. Asleep? With the vindictive German at his side?

"Not for love or money."

"Be assured, zere vill neither be ze one nor the other involved." Without further hesitation he continued his treatment, with no means to be careful or to avoid unnecessary pain. The tall man clenched his teeth, gripping the edges of the cod so hard his knuckles turned white. Cold sweatdrops ran down his face and he blinked hard to fight back tears of pain. But he successfully swallowed down the screams. He wouldn't give the Medic that satisfaction.

Finally the doctor felt the bone snap back into its place.

"Zere, done. Good Sniper, gonna tell your mother vhat a brave boy you've been."

"Shuddap, motherfucker..." the man cursed. His whole body tensioned when he felt the Medic's hands on his body again. But this time he only applied some of the ointment on the bruised skin. The fingers and the crème itself were cold, causing a shudder to run down his back. This was very different from the rough treatment before.

The Australian gave a faint groan. "This feels good... no, not like THAT!" he hurried to assure the doctor when he noticed the piercing glare. "It eases the pain..."

"Zat's what it'z meant for." Medic stopped and put the bandages around the Sniper's torso.

"Ouch, that's pretty tight, does it have to hurt like this?"

"Ja, or it von't keep the bone into place. Here, take the ointment and apply it again tomorrow. If you need help with the bandages, come to me or ask Pyro." The German threw the tube at him, Sniper managed to catch.

"Pyro? Why Pyro?" he wondered. He tried to picture the most mysterious guy of them all as a nurse. And failed.

"Because ze Pyro knows enough about medicine to treat a minor fracture like zis. Now, get dressed and get lost."

Medic had already begun to clear away several medical instruments. Sniper watched him for a moment, then he took hold of the other man's wrist when he stood next to him again.

"Well, at least ya got ya revenge, guess we are even... whoa whoa, wait!" Yet again he was cut short, when Medic suddenly was above him, pushing him down, and swung one knee between the Sniper's legs, with enough force to make his threat clear.

"What the..." Remembering the pain the last kicks inflicted, Sniper felt scared for a second. With both hands he tried to shove the Medic aside, but the doctor was stronger than he expected.

The German grabbed the surprised face with one hand, lowered slowly his head and whispered into the Australian's ear. "Narr. You have NO idea. Zis happened because of your stupidity alone. I expect more... enjoyment... from my revenge, and zere vill be nozhing you can do about it and you von't know vhen it vill happen. Until zen, Nicholas,..." He pressed his knee hard against the Sniper's sensitive groin, "...until zen don't believe I forgot your insolent behaviour. And you shouldn't forget ze result." He traced down the paralysed Sniper's throat with one finger, satisfied with the shiver this caused in the other man's body. He laughed his evil, unforgiving laugh again, his lips almost touching Sniper's cheek, when he, as sudden as he had attacked, climbed off the cod with one swift, fluent movement, not without supporting himself on the broken bone for a second. Sniper didn't move for a second, gasping.

"As I said, get dressed and get lost, before I lose my patience wiz you." reaching for his own overcoat, he left the shed and joined the others, asking if his assistance was required.

- to be continued -

_Translations:_

_Medic:_

_"...zen ve should have heard from our employers by now, nicht wahr?"_

_"zen ve shoud have heard from..., shouldn't we?"_

_"Nun," the Medic coughed slightly..._

_"Well," the Medic coughed..._

_"Don't waste zis food, Du Idiot."_

_"..., you idiot!"_

_"vait until dinner, Vielfraß."_

_"vait until dinner, glutton!"_

_"Kindsköpfe." (there's no term I could find, says "heads of children", meaning silly/childish persons)_

_"Man hat schon Pferde kotzen sehen..."_  
><em>a German proverb, slang, a literal translation would be:"Somebody had seen horses vomitting before..."<em>  
><em>Meaning:"you know, anything can happen, even the impossible"<em>

_"Come on, wach auf, mach schon..."_

_"Come on, wake up, come one..."_

_" Your Hubschraub... helicopter"_

_"Hubschrauber" is German for helicopter, but he corrected himself, so we can ignore this, right? ^^_

_"Oh je," he suddenly smirked._

_"Oh my," …._

_"Du Vollidiot!"_

_"You retard/complete idiot!"_

_"Narr. You have NO idea."_

_"Fool..."_

_Spah_  
><em>"Taise-toi, chiard, and develop some ethics. Go on, Engineer, explain to le petit enfant."<em>

_"Shut up, brat,... explain to the toddler."_

_"Alors, sum it up, shall we? We shoot the 'elicopter down, you zee what you can build, and you build it le plus tôt possible, before zee ozers who might be les enemies arrive, oui?"_  
><em>"Well, sum it up, shall we? We shoot the 'elicopter down, you zee what you can build and you build it as soon as possible..."<em>

_"Bon. Mais, when shall zees facétie 'appen"_  
><em>"Good. But, when shall this move happen?"<em>


	5. Chapter 5

_[Author's note] translations at the end of the chapter [/Author's note]_

x x x**  
><strong>

**Snowbowl 5 – About Time**

Time is the most crucial factor.

Time is nothing more than an abstract concept of organizing existence, a theoretical, impalpable structure of the greatest impact on our being. We keep track, we keep up, we never see it, we never fully understand it as soon as it's too far advanced or too far behind. Feel easy with the idea of 1,000,000 years in the future or what happened 1,000,000 years in the past.

It's impossible to grasp the idea of a next or last week when the only definition of time in your mind is "will we survive tomorrow?".

Time became the most pressing issue, of an unbearable force, stronger than hunger or cold or security. With a dead body in a hole of ice, the face unknown and unchanged thanks to the preserving temperature as a reminder louder than any stroke of a clock could ever be. A corpse turning fears and anticipation into something less surreal, a signal that the last or any further action might be their rescue. Or destruction. Paving a way back to be welcomed or eliminated by the real world.

Those were the thoughts waking Engineer up this morning before dawn. His mind lost in obscure theories, he felt the weight of the dark around him stronger, and the breathing and snoring, eight different patterns and rhythms, echoed in his head like the reproachful tick-tock, tick-tock of clocks, dull and heavy, light and piercing, and many increments in between.

This was when he decided to get up despite the darkness, after all, his maybe most important project beckoned him to return and to complete his part of tweaking their all fate. Or doom. Doubt was one of the most hated emotions, yet he couldn't shake them off.

He had tried to fix the radio transmitter, but all he got was the national weather forecast. This little discovery was helpful, no doubt about that. Obviously the rest of the world was fine in its usual way, too hot here, too cold there, some places with too much rain, some without. But the strange occurrence of a desert turning into a clone of Siberia was never mentioned.

Everyone felt lost, small and insignificant, caught in their recent location without any word from outside for such a long time. But this major change, may it be a miracle of nature or of science, was of utterly unimportance for the rest of the world.

A challenge on the field of philosophy might be refreshing, but now this only added to the creepy, sanity-devouring depression which didn't intend to loosen its hold over the men.

So waiting wasn't an option anymore for sure. Engineer had decided not to waste any more time with the radio transmitter. Maybe he would have been able to fix it, maybe he would have been able to power it up enough to exchange messages with the outside world. But one never knew what the answers might be, what explanations might be given, it simply seemed more useful to go and check them out in person.

He loved a good challenge, and building something that was strong and large enough to transport 9 grown and overgrown men, weapons, food and other essential equipment certainly was a challenge.

Oh, he was sure he could do it, with enough team mates only too eager to leave this place as helping hands he saved enough time once he somehow got them organized. Still, he wondered if they worked fast enough, and there was still the residual risk he might fail.

"Failure is not an option." growled the Soldier the last evening when the Texan expressed his doubts and worries to him. Engineer saw his old friend trusted him without any doubts. He wished he could share this certainty.

"Well, overconcern never changes anything." he mused while walking to his building area, where a rectangular, most peculiar construction waited for him to finish what he began.

x x x x x

"I call." Spy put another cigarette onto the little pile between them.

"Bloody... gah, fold." Sniper threw his cards away.

"Too bad, mon ami, and merci." The French grinned, reaching for the seven cigarettes. "Another round?"

"Wait wait!" Vigorously the Australian grabbed Spy's card before he could shuffle them with the rest of the pile. "I wanna see. What the...? You cheat! Two aces on your hand, two in the flop..."

"Mais oui, zhat's why I raised, j'avait une hand of victory..."

Raising his arms in a defending gesture, his face most innocent, Spy interrupted in protest.

"Bloody victory, ya cheating spook!" Sniper snorted. "I'd an ace on _my _hand! Which set of poker cards contains 5 aces?"

"Oh lala, Monsieur bush man, you are quite a handful pour le faire du baby-sitting." He ducked when Sniper aimed for his head with an empty jar. "Tu n'es pas très amusant. Not very funny person." Feigning to be insulted, he removed some dust from his vest, stood up and hurried away, leaving the cave, before Sniper could find another thing to throw at him.

"Useless wuss." With a sigh he leaned back, supported by the wall. Life was tremendously boring the past three days. He hadn't forgiven Medic the rude treatment, but he had to admit his injury finally was healing. When he checked his skin the dark blue and purple marks weren't looking as bad as before, and as long as he moved slowly he didn't feel much pain.

Medic had told the others about the Sniper's condition and how important it was he got enough rest, or the bone would never heal properly, and that the Australian was suffering very much from his injury. The others had giggled, and Soldier grumbled something about a disgrace to the team, weak and a crybaby, but nobody had really listened to Sniper when he tried to defend himself.

"I'll get you for this, damn Kraut, I swear by God..."

"Ja? Vhat do you swear by God?" asked a sickly-sweet voice next to him. The Sniper's back stiffened and there was no need to turn his head to know who just entered this part of the cave.

"Nothin'! Hell, nothin' and now leave me alone, god damned stalker!"

"Gut, das werde ich. Viel Spaß noch." And so the Medic obliged for now and went for the exit.

Really, Sniper hated it when this guy spoke only German with him. It was almost as unnerving as this cheating spook with his cloaking device. One never knew if there was a hidden threat or not.

"Gaaah, was that a curse or sumthin'? Heck, speak English, okay?"

"Nein."

x x x x x

"Hm?" The masked man turned around when he felt the presence of Medic.

"It's time for zhe routine check-up soon, Pyro. I zhink you'd prefer to do yours know? As long as zhere still is... privacy?"

Pyro sighed, but nodded. One sceptical eye followed him as followed their doctor.

"Privacy? Why does that Teutonic nurse wanna have privacy for ya two?"

"Herr Demoman, be assured zhat I try to respect my patient's wishes. Zhe sooner you let me do my job zhe sooner he vill be back vizh you, verstanden?" Medic decided to let the insult slide, yet he felt like there was a hidden agenda going around, first priority: to annoy him.

"'ill ee ack oon, 'mo" The muffled voice of Pyro assured him. Demo shrugged. Whatever was fine by his friends was fine by him, too. For now he'd see if he could be of any help to Engineer.

x x x x x x

"Everyzhink is good, for now, Ramon." Taking some notes on his clipboard, the Medic nodded. "Put your clothes back on, before you catch a cold." He lifted his eyes. "Vhy do you still vear zhis? It's not necessary to vear zhis fireproof gear."

"I-I.. I know. Y...you know why..." The man blushed and closed the upper part of his asbestos overall.

"Ja, but it's not good to wear it all time. I told you about the dangers. Ah, zhat reminds me! How are zhe nosebleeds? More often?"

"N...no. I.. I'm ..okay..." Pyro reached for his mask, but Medic beat him to it. Thoughtfully the German looked at the piece of rubber, and put it aside again. "Let me have a look at your face again." he demanded.

The short, dark haired man hesitated to sit down again, but after all he didn't want to get on the Medic's bad side, too. The men in the team were careful who to call friend. They didn't know too much about each other, in most cases not even their real names. He felt comfortable with most of them by now, but as the others he preferred not to get too attached to each other. Of course there was some kind of trust between all of them, but only as long as it concerned their job. But for some reason or another some kind of strange friendship had grown between him and the German. Probably his refusal to be treated at all at the beginning had only piqued Medic's curiosity, nothing more. But the tall man was no one who liked to admit defeat and sooner or later Pyro had given up. He looked sadly at the ground now that he remembered the Medic's surprised face when he removed the mask for the first time.

"Zhere, your face looks good, no infection left, everyzhink is healing, zhe scars look smoozh and beautiful. For scars." The Medic concluded after he had checked Pyro's skin at the face and throat once more. "You should not vear zhis mask so much. In fact, it's zhe reason vhy it took so long in zhe first place. And would probably still be schlecht... bad... vizhout proper medical treatment." He chided gently. The boy's behaviour was most illogical and irresponsible when it came to his health.

"Y...you are r..right...W..Wilhelm... but I..I can't even... sp.. speak properly w..without it, a..and my f..face..." The young man swallowed. He hated it when Medic just listened, without finishing his sentences for him, although he was certain the German knew very well what he was going to say.

"I...it's too... h..h..horrible t..to show..." His shoulders sunk. Talking aloud without his mask as a protection was tough, and fluently? Impossible.

"Närrisches Kind." Medic ruffled the thick, short-cropped hair. "You vill never get better if you hide. And zhe scars, I've seen vorse. Nobody vould mind, and you know that."

Pyro smiled. They had had this discussion before. More than once. "Y...yes. But I m..mind. A..a lot."

"And zhat's vhy you are a foolish child. Shielding yourself avay from the wörld with zhis mask zhat prevented your face from healing properly for years, vearing zhis gear zhat vill poison you one day..."

"M...maybe... I.. I will th...think about it, p...promised." With that, he took his mask back and put it on again. "'n't 'orry, 'ilhelm, ll ee ine. 'otta ee at 'mo s p to. 'nk ou!"

"No need to zhank me. I'd razher have you zhink. Get going now." He bowed his head again and added more notes to Pyro's file. 'Psychology is fascinating', he wondered. 'Zhis Ramon. Merciless, bold and ferozious on the battlefield. Calm and laid back between fights. Only a few years older zhan Scout, yet like a scared child vizhout zhe mask... amazing.'

Soon he joined the others. Like all of them he wondered when they finally would be able to leave. There was not much more to prepare and Medic was about to run out of ideas how to keep occupied.

x x x x x

Another day passed and finally Engineer called all of them together. Without any delay the men came, even Sniper was able to keep up, half supported, half dragged along like a rag doll by Heavy.

The Texan's face glowed with pride and triumph. He watched the others look at the strange construction in front of them in amazement.

"Man... this... this is huge!" Scout was the first to get his voice back. "My ass, what is this anyway man?"

Soldier was about to yell at the boy again, but Engineer just laughed.

"This, son, is our ticket to the outside world." His grin widened.

"You mean, all of us?" Scout tilted his head, wondering. "It doesn't seem THAT huge..."

"Naaah, don't ya worry." With a wave of his hand at the Bostonian he turned to Soldier.

"Kindly explain them kids the plan."

"Yes. Listen, Ladies!" Soldier barked. "This is what we'll do! We use this for shelter and when travelling at night, and a smaller trailer for our equipment. Time to grow up boys, we are not going on a field trip with lemonade and cupcakes waiting for us! This mission is the real deal. We conquer the cold, we will dominate the wasteland, there is no room for failure, no room for sissies and certainly no room for wimpy whining weenies crying for their pacifier and Moma's tits... If anyone makes a fuss like a Laura with frilly ribbons in her hair...!"

"Err, thank you, Soldier." Engineer hurried to cut his friend's passionate speech short. "We got the idea. About the plan..."

"Eh, right. Okay, maggots. As this isn't a racing car we have a long journey ahead. We will have to walk most of the time, this is going to be a crazy march through hell, and without willpower and discipline we will not make it."

"Why build big car when walk we will?" Heavy inquired, looking doubtfully, first at the construction, then at the Soldier.

"Damn right," grumbled Sniper. None of them seemed too excited about the news.

"I will explain. You see, the helicopter engines were quite powerful, yes, but I had to take certain parameters into account. This is, our total weight, the necessary space so we can at least all sit in the vehicle. And we needed even more loadability and space for provisions, weapons, tools, Medic's equipment and, of course, water. I had to compromise and each concession to our vital needs effected the speed, slowing the whole construction down. Ah'm sorry, guys. Our ride will be as fast as a horse cart during the pioneering days. We are all war experienced, used to physical stress more than normal men, so despite the weather and strain I'd say we'd be able to walk with five or six miles per hour, just average speed." he added quickly before Scout could protest again.

"Alors, and you say how long this voyage will take?" the French sighed. Stern foot marches weren't his cup of tea.

"Well," Engineer took a look at his scratchpad. "We sat in the train for about 19 hours, probably with speed of 68mph. So from our departure point to here it should be approximately 1300 miles."

Medic started to calculate in his head.

"Grundgütiger..." He exclaimed.

"No idea what that means, pardner," Engineer shrugged, "but if it's something like what the fuck, hell ya, you are correct. It will probably take us two weeks back to the departure point. Probably more, as there certainly will be storms and other odds forcing us to rest. The car isn't big enough for all of us to take a nap, so we'll have to take turns. It's more a shelter than a ride. Sons, this is going to be worse than here. Less comfort, less privacy but what the hell, we'll get things movin' now!" He sounded excited, like he was looking forward their journey. Now Soldier spoke up again.

"This will be hard, but we are harder! Because we are strong men hard as the hardest steel and no crybabies! We can do it, and we will do it, because this, men, this is our way out of here, our way back to the world. It's US against them, and I will be damned if we aren't made of the sternest stuff hell ever spit out!" With what sounded like a battle cry he raised his gun, firing one shot.

He had found the right words. All of them were aware of the dangers ahead. But after all, there was a purpose. They were sick of this place, whatever it took to actually do something about it, hell, they would be able to cope with it.

"'enn 'll ee rt?" A muffled question forced through the cheering and shouting voices.

Soldier took a deep breath and declared:"Tomorrow, son. We start tomorrow, so everyone, pack up and get ready. Pyro, you stay, Engineer wants a word with you."

x x x x x

At nightfall an eerie atmosphere drew its veil over the camp. The outside temperature had fallen again, but the sky was still clear, a dark, cool crimson at the horizon, black above their heads. The stars and a crescent moon emitting a pale light. Four fires were burning, two at the Engineer's working area, one in front of the cavern, one inside. The place that had become something like an unloving home looked more deserted than ever, after they stored away their belongings into the smaller car. Left with blankets, food for breakfast and the clothes on their bodies, everyone felt strangely lost and calm. There wasn't much talking, too many thoughts and worries had to be pondered over and over. But eight heads were raised in wonder when a strange tune reached their ears.

A calm, sad, yearning melody, foreign and gloomy alike. None of them would have admitted to be emotionally affected by anything, but the melancholic music touched them, as it expressed in an abstract way their abstract, denied feelings.

Soon Sniper, still angry with himself, and angry with Medic, and angry with the rest of the world, a world that allowed him to get his rib broken now, found himself humming. Off-key, yes, but he joined the melody any the less.

Soldier, huddled in a blanket, sheltered from the wind by the supply shed close to Engineer, was already half asleep, but his head nodded in time with the tact, a silent support.

The Texan interrupted his work for a second, looking at his exhausted friend, smiling. He wished for his guitar now, wished to pull the strings, finding the right accords to join the strange, voiceless song, but there were still adjustments to make. But he soon noticed how the movements of his hands adapted to the rhythm.

Back in the cavern a metallic sound echoed from the walls when Heavy started to drum with his fingertips on his beloved Sasha. Absent-minded he looked at his hand and felt a silent happiness how he was able to operate with it again, after the accident in summer. Even the smallest every day movement was like a little wonder. He would have to thank Medic again, as soon as the German would return.

Outside, hidden by a shadow cast by the moon, only the smoke of a cigarette gave the presence of the slim, French man away. He leaned against a boulder, searching with his eyes until he found it, a short silhouette sitting above them, on the plateau of the water tower.

"Alors, mon ami. Tu es un personne étonnant. Vraiment, étonnant." He drew another pull of his cigarette, inhaling the strong, hot fume, enjoying its bitter taste on his lips. Unconsciously his foot

had started to accompany the song's melody, tapping softly on the rough, frozhen ground.

In the distance his eyes caught another, a fast moving, shadow. "Nous lapin énervant ne peut pas coucher pas encore aussi, naturlement."

So the Scout kept moving, running small rounds, jumping over rocks, hitting hard against stone and on the ground more often than necessary, due to the dark, due to the desire to feel alive, to get away from the depressing mood dampening his spirits for so long now. He stopped abruptly when the tune reached his ears. For a moment he stood still, his head put back, staring at the sky. "Music, stuff for babies and girls." he snorted. Then he screamed an unarticulated, angry scream against the darkness, ignored and unanswered. Feeling strangely relieved, he darted off again, letting the rhythm take over his body when he jumped, bounced off walls, landed on his feet.

"Aye..." Demoman raised an almost empty bottle to the sky. "Cheers, lad." And took a long gulp. "I zhought you had finally given up zhe drinking, Demoman." A reproachful voice startled the Scotsman. "Damn ya, freakin' nurse. Don't sneak up from beeehind like this." He almost shouted, feeling busted. Indeed, he hadn't drunk much for the last weeks, even months. Alcohol was luxury and therefore scarce. But tonight he felt like he needed a strong drink. Yet he put the bottle down when Medic stood next to him, both listening to the music.

After a moment of silence, curiosity got the better of him. "What is this strange melody, Doc? Some kind of flute?"

The Medic nodded. "A pan flute, to be precise, a traditional instrument from Peru."

"Bloody he... who would play that thing?"

"Someone vho is Peruvian, I presume."

"Damn you, not get'n the sound of half of the words right but talkin' with a stick up the ass..." Demo mumbled.

"Wie bitte?"

"Nah, forgit it." Demo waved his hand in a half apologizing, half defending gesture. "Peru, eh? So this is where he's from..."

The doctor nodded. "A mutilated child from souzhern America, vizh a passion for fire and a soft spot for music."

"Wait, whaddya sayin'?" The other man was confused. "Child? Mutilated? Whaddya talkin' about?"

"Zhe facts. He's two years older zhen our Scout, and got acid spilled over half of zhe body and zhe face vhen younger. Not too strong, but still left zome impressive scars." Medic explained patiently, with an air of indifference. Demo stared at him, in shock. It took him a moment to regain his speech.

"How d'ya know? And sure ya'd be tellin' me that?" He finally asked.

"Because he told me and rest assured, I know vhat I do, always." With that, he turned around, walking back to the cavern. "Of course it iz up to you vhat to do vizh zhis information. Spread it, keep it, blackmail him, or vhatever you zhink iz right."

"Bastard." Demo spit on the ground. The taste in his mouth had gone sour and disagreeable.

"And you," he kindly addressed the lonely silhouette, "you shouldn't face all this alone, you know... shuttin' us out with that stoopid mask, laddie...like we wouldn't understand. Hell," His shivering hand touched the eyepatch covering his left eye. "Hell, like I wouldn't understand.".

He sat down on an ice covered rock, wondering what to do or what to say. For a second he looked at the bottle, then spilled the rest of the amber coloured liquid on the ground.

The melody lingered a while longer in the air. And faded away when night finally brought complete darkness.

x x x x x x to be continued x x x x x x x

xxx

xx

x

**Zhe Translations as they appear in the story:**

Spy:

"Too bad, mon ami, and merci" = "Too bad, my friend, and thanks"

"Mais oui, zhat's why I raised, j'avait une hand of victory..." = "But of course, zhat's why I raised, I had a hand of victory."

"Oh lala, Monsieur bush man, you are quite a handful pour le faire du baby-sitting." he ducked when Sniper aimed for his head with an empty jar. "Tu n'es pas très amusant." = "... you are quite a handful to babysit." …. "You are not very entertaining."

Medic:

"Gut, das werde ich. Viel Spaß noch." = "Fine, I will. Have fun."

"Zhe sooner he vill be back vith you, verstanden?" = "Zhe sooner he vill be back vith you, understood?"

Pyro

"' ll ee ack oon, 'mo" = "will be back soon, Demo"

Medic:

"Närrisches Kind." = "foolish child."

Pyro:

"'n't 'orry, 'ilhelm, ll ee ine. 'otta ee at 'mo s p to. 'nk ou!" = "Don't worry, Wilhelm, I'll be fine. Gotta see what Demo is up to. Thank you!"

Medic:

"Grundgütiger = "good gracious!"

Pyro: "'enn 'll ee rt?" = "When will we start?"

Spy

"Alors, mon ami. Tu es un personne étonnant. Vraiment, étonnant." = "Well, my friend. You are an astounding person. Really astounding."

"Nous lapin énervant ne peut pas coucher aussi, naturlement." = "Of course our annoying bunny cannot sleep, too."

Wow, another chapter about... nothing? Not really nothing, but I have one or two (actually three) scenarios in mind I really really want to write, but... still busy setting the stage. Why doesn't the story do what I want? *arg*

But don't worry, I don't intend to picture ALL the following days xD

Writing Demo is fun, I want to make him talk like a pirat, but I try not to *ARRRRR*

On the other hand, giving Pyro's character life wasn't that easy. Too much freedom, not enough facts, so please forgive me if he's too different from what you could tolerate ^^

Btw., I listened to this /watch?v=FcklfVCEAcgwhile writing the last part from "at nightfall..." on, I recommend you to do it, too. If you don't mind. You don't have to, of course ^^

I won't make any promises I cannot deliver, but I do my best to write something more sexy as soon as possible ^^


	6. Chapter 6

_[author's note] tranlations at the bottom of the chapter [/author's note]_

A vanished horizon.

The air clear, the plains wide and wide and white, and the distinct line separating earth from sky was blurred, like colors on a wet oil painting, blue and white became one non-definable mass of brightness to the human's eyes. He was spinning and spinning, but it was of no avail, everything kept unchanged, left, ahead, right, behind. Turning and turning, alike gravity lost, wherever he looked the sight was the same, running and running, against a wall of unchanging surroundings, eyes weary and teary, no track could be seen, too late, footprints already taken away by the wind. Cold crept up his legs, making him stagger over the frozen mirror called snowy ground, putting a curse on the simple act of walking, like thickening the density of air proportionate to the density of panic. The voice swallowed by the wind, not rewarded with even the faintest sound of an answer or echo, as no man and no thing were there to reflect his scream.

No matter how many steps he took, he ran on the point, he ran back and forward, he ran in circles, the world in front his eyes stretched, stretched, stretched. Lost and never reaching his destination. And as piercing colors flickered and bounced from the boundaries of the retina, flashing through the optic nerve, delivering obscure information to the visual cortex of his brain - reality became a Kafkaesque dream.

x x x x

Two days had passed and Dustbowl had disappeared from the sight of their eyes. Not once they had looked behind, but even if they did it now, all they would see was the wasteland, seemingly endless, covered with snow.

The day of their departure had shown all signs of foreboding, dark and clouded, the wind almost too calm, too peaceful, and single flakes of snow fell, bright and innocent against the sombre gray of the sky. The lull before the storm, taken directly from a storybook, or a take directed by the most cliched screenplay writers. No word had been spoken almost all morning, as they had been still tired when woken by the Soldier before dawn. Drowsy but restless everyone had been bustling to and fro, packing, unloading, packing again. Soon first arguments had sliced through the silence like hot steel through flesh, words aggressive, insulting, criticizing each other acidly, not unlike the sour taste in their throats, caused by the lack of sleep and overbearing anticipation. After all these days of preparation the actual start of their journey differed from all theories and plans. Each of them had had other ideas of what gear was essential for their survival, and when the space available turned out to be smaller than hoped fights had broken out.

A dangerous situation that had been resolved as suddenly as it had started, when Engineer got fed up with the hostile behaviour of his comrades and declared firmly he would drive away alone and leave them to their fate.

"NYET!"

"Ah non, Monsieur, jamais!"

Heavy had been close to strangle the Frenchman just a second before, not tolerating at all the Spy's snide remarks about the size of the Russian's large body taking too much space, let alone his silly weapons.

Medic, Scout and Sniper, standing close to them and displaying their own war of words at the same time stopped and joined the two men in their protest.

"Zertainly not, nein, nein und nochmals nein!" The German crossed his arms and took a firm stand, while the Australian waved his hands. His "Ya gotta be kiddin', mate!" mixed with Scouts "Uuuuh no! No no no no no noooo way, gramps!"

"If I were your gramps I'd make sure ya treat grown-ups with respect and not callin' them gramps." Engineer snapped, then smiled. "But I'm glad you don't want me to leave you behind after all, so let's... what is it?" he finished his sentence when he felt a firm hand on his shoulder from behind. When he turned around, he saw Soldier, his lips twitching while he was suppressing a grin.

"You got that wrong, Professor. I bet the boys didn't listen any further once you said _you _are going to drive."

Silence.

"What's that supposed to mean?" The Texan was confused.

"That means you SUCK at driving, granddad!" Scout broke in.

The changes in the Engineer's face suddenly had an impact on the rest of the by-standing team. Heavy was the first, starting to cough when he tried to swallow a deep, growling giggle, then he burst with laughter. Scout had to lean against the side of the broad man, so he wouldn't slide to the ground, holding his sides. The Sniper grinned wide, and even the Medic joined in, first chuckling, then laughing as loud as the rest.

"I am in complete agreement with you about the kid's lack of respect," Now Soldier smiled openly, "But he is right. You suck at driving, and you certainly will not drive this thing, understood?"

"FINE! But don't run to me for the fuckin' manual, bloody amateurs" For a second he looked like he was about to smash his wrench to the ground, but of course he didn't. Instead, Engineer left, muttering several curses and threats to himself.

Soldier eyed the men in front of him, who still kept on laughing, restarting whenever one looked at the others. They stopped at once when the veteran shouted at them in his used, loud and ear shattering manner.

"ARE WE HAVING FUN YET? I THOUGHT I WORK WITH A SQUAD OF GROWN UP MEN AT ARMS AND NOT WITH A GROUP OF GIRLS HAVING A HEN PARTY! BUCK UP NOW!" He was glad when they turned their backs to him, because he had a hard time not smiling. He would apologize later to the Engineer. But the team was right. They wanted to survive. And that meant not have the Texan take control of the wheel by any means. Soldier felt sorry to hurt his friend's feeling, the man was sensitive about this matter. And stubborn. But he would calm down after a while, not being the grudge bearing kind of person, and after all, this little interlude had its merits. The spirits were certainly raised and the arguments had stopped for now. From the direction of the cave he could hear laughter again, more and different voices, fortunately the good humor was infectious. The men would be fine and sort out their silly differences soon and without creating a bloodbath. Now he could deal with more pressing problems. Like convincing Engineer to instruct him how to operate the vehicle.

x x x x x

More and more flakes of snow fell to the ground, freezing the second they touched the icy surface. The days were cold, the nights colder, even when the wind didn't sting at full force their eyes and the bits of exposed skin they failed to cover with their shawls. The fabric was rough, but thick, and still not able to protect their bodies from the hostile weather. At the beginning they had walked too fast. Their strength allowed them to march on, but as soon as they reached the optimum speed, their skins started to sweat eventually. An underrated factor, as they soon had to realize, as the chilly air cooled their body temperature down even faster than before. So they had no choice then walking slower than possible, to protect themselves. Soldier drove the bulky vehicle at the same speed, flanked by four of them on each side. Sniper considered himself lucky to walk behind Heavy, the large man shielded him from some of the wind and snow, he imagined. Soon his eyes grew tired behind his shades, watching the same back for so long. For a while he had tried to talk with Demoman, who marched next to him this evening, but screaming against the shawl was surprisingly strength-sapping, and most of the words were lost in the howl of the increasing storm. He wondered how the others were doing. About two hours ago his group fell back when Scout, who had taken the place next to Heavy, in front of Demo, slipped on a piece of ice, causing the Scotsman to trip over him. Heavy and Sniper had stopped immediately, trying to help them back up on their feet. Easier said than done, after losing the rhythm for walking safely on the ground Demo and Scout pulled each other down again and again, until Heavy simply grabbed around Scout's body, putting him on his feet like a doll, while Sniper tried to support Demo as good as he could.

The man was heavier than him, a problem enlarged by fatigue and a throbbing pain. The cold wasn't good at all for his rib, although it was healing well. But he didn't dare to complain or require a break in their rolling shelter. Pride forbid!

'At least the boy wasn't walkin' in front of the big-head, makin' him trip. He'd have crushed him..."

This incident, as it could happen anytime again, caused by any of them, filled him with unease. Only a few minutes and the van had almost become one with their surroundings. What would happen if the snowfall got stronger? Or if something happened to the rest of the team at the other flank of the vehicle? They wouldn't even notice. Pyro was the physically strongest of them, but also rather small. And odd. And, not to forget, without his favorite weapon. How often had they complained because Pyro was cheap when it came to gasoline, but in hindsight it had turned out to be a piece of luck. Engineer was positive the supplies of fuel would last long enough, and confiscated all that Pyro had stored away.

Of course the short man was willing to help at once, but he had to feel strange now, with nothing left for his own flamethrower. Sniper was glad that his weapons weren't of any use for the Engineer.

Spy wasn't much of a marching soldier, and his physical constitution was similar to Sniper's own, but less tough. He wouldn't be of any help. The Engineer was tough, yes. But probably more worried about the welfare of his construction. Inwardly, Sniper shook his head. Thinking about the others wasn't efficient at all for now and had to stop now. He would better keep an eye on his own little team, making sure everything went smoothly here. The others could take care of themselves, not one of them could afford to become a burden to the rest of the group. But God, he was so tired and freezing.

Sniper didn't realize at first when the vehicle stopped. His eyes on the ground, unfocused, he just walked on when he suddenly hit Heavy's back.

"BOYS COME IN NOW! A storm's comin'!" Soldier yelled.

'Finally.' With a sigh he climbed into the car, finding a seat on the bank between the Russian and Demoman, hoping the heat of their larger bodies would help him to warm up a bit. The air was stale, lacking of fresh oxygen. A small oil lamp stood at his foot, emitting a deceitfully warm light. The Australian, as the others, freed himself from the shawl and his overcoat. For a moment he considered to get out of his shoes as well, and tug his feet under, but despite the gloves his fingers were too stiff to loosen the shoelaces. So all he could do was moving his toes to keep the blood circulation running. He barely escaped the risk of frostbite when he couldn't fight sleep anymore.

x x x x

"Poot dis pendant here right now you will, baby boy!" The giant Russian growled at Scout while he tried to catch him with his large hands, but the teen was too fast for him.

"Come on, boy, give him that darn thing back." the Engineer said, irritated and not really interested, too busy checking the pressure of one of the tires and tightening several bolts. Really, why did they behave like kids sometimes? And especially now? He sighed when he thought about the two days they had lost due to a never ending blizzard.

Moving on would have been suicidal, so they stayed in their shelter, cramped together like sardines in a tin. This was bad. Worse than their first days at Dustbowl before they moved to the cave. With only the front window, that was covered with snow soon, it was dark in the small room, with only one little lamp. The force of the storm made the vehicle sway slightly. Of course there wasn't the danger of being knocked down, the load, including them all, was too heavy. But he wasn't so sure about the smaller trailer with their provisions, weapons and water. If that thing had been destroyed... These worries, the lack of space and the grating sounds made by the metal around them when the wind hit the large surfaces of the walls jarred on all their nerves.

The Texan was glad he had taken sudden casualties like this into account when he calculated their escape.

After the end of the second day, not long before all of them would have gone mad, the weather calmed down. Despite the harsh cold they were glad to jump out of the trailer and to be able to move their still limps again. The next day was bright and clear, so they decided to rest for a few hours, checking if repairs were due. Pyro retired into the car again soon, taking the opportunity to stretch himself out and catch some sleep on one of the bench seats while everyone else stayed outside for now. Medic joined him after he had made sure none had come by any injuries and after a short check-up of the Sniper's rib. Bone mass had grown between the end of the site of fracture, keeping the rib in place. Only a bit sensitive to touch, but otherwise the Australian was fine so Medic told him to leave him in peace. Tired out, he fell asleep as soon as he lay down on the other bench.

The rest of the team was glad to be outside without the pressure of marching for a short while. The camp was peaceful until the Scout decided it was too peaceful.

"Oh, come oooon, why is it my fault big idiot here can't look after his junk?" He escaped a punch of the large fists by jumping backwards, a locket on a golden chain dangling from one of his fingers. "If I didn't find it he'd lost it, so Tankboy here better thank me! Maybe sharing his food rations with me for a while." he teased the Russian who had lost his sense of humor and was about to lose his temper completely with their Scout.

"You for dinner I will have." Heavy bellowed. "Sit down you will soon, then I break spine of bunny boy..."

"Yeah yeah, aaaalright, here, have it back." With a mocking yawn he threw the pendant at Heavy who caught it, with a surprisingly swift mood. "Could at least tell me why an elephant like you's so crazy for this girl's stuff."

"Not your business." mumbled the Russian and took a look at the broken chain. "Engineer, you fix it."

"Alright, later, lemme finish this baby first. Ah hell. Spy! Move ya ass here for a moment!" the Texan shouted, half lying under the trailer, while Heavy went over to the Soldier for now, his wrath gone.

Spy, several steps away, smoking and lost in his thoughts, joined the little group when called.

"What is it?" he inquired, with an annoyed tone lying in his voice. He hadn't really paid attention to the commotion, but heard enough and wasn't eager to be dragged in.

"Keep an eye on the boy here, will ya?" Engineer's voice echoed from under the vehicle, pointing in the direction with his wrench where he assumed Scout standing.

Both Scout and Spy protested.

"Oh please, why moi?"

"I don't need no fuckin' babysitter!"

"Come on now," the Engineer insisted. "Kid's bored and bein' a fan of ya, Frenchie..."

"Whoa wait! Me a fan of Frogs here?" Scout protested immediately, the French only sneered.

"Zis might well be and iz understandable, but moi is no fan of zis enfant mal élève, no more zan any of you. Stop pushing him on me, s'il te plait."

Crimson with rage, the Bostonian stared at Spy, who returned the angry glare with an countenance of boredom.

"Whaddya want me to do, asshole? Die right here? Know what? Fuck ya!" the boy snapped, obviously hurt.

"Make yourself useful et va te coucher, for a change." Spy suggested, unimpressed by Scout's outburst.

"Fine. You bastards continue goofing off and I will do my job."

"Wait just a darn second, son!" Engineer had come back from under the car, feeling rather uneasy. "Whaddya think you gonna do now?"

"Whaddya think I'm gonna do, oldtimer, gonna scout the area of course, makin' sure ya don't run us in circles here." Scout spit on the ground, almost shivering with rage. Thinking about it for a second the Engineer decided this wasn't maybe the worst idea, at least the boy would spend some of his overflowing energy and hopefully calm down a bit. And maybe he would find something useful. "Okay, but here, take my compass and goggles." Searchingly he buried his hands in the pockets of his overalls.

"Don't tell me how to do my job!" shouting scornfully, he dashed off, without a further look at the Spy who lightened another cigarette.

"HEY!" Engineer shouted as well. "At least ask Snipes for his shades!"

"FUCK YA!"

Shaking his head, the Texan turned to the French. The kid wouldn't listen to reason now, maybe it was a bad idea after all to let him go. Hopefully this wouldn't come to a bad end.

"Damn, this was ugly. Spah, did ya have ta talk like this?" he said reproachfully, but Spy only shrugged.

"Ze boy iz annoying. Loud, sassy and big mouthed. How do you say? A brat. Je n'il peux pas sentir when 'e stalks moi all day."

"Ha! How ironic, this coming from _you._ But still..." With another sigh he stared at the now empty spot the Scout had been standing just a moment ago.

"I didn't like the look on his face. I think ya unfair, Spah. For some reason no one understands he seems to like ya. When he annoys ya that much, why don't ya be a good influence on... nah, forget what I said. He's bad enough as he's now." His eyes searched for Soldier. He better reported what happened.

The Spy's eyes widened, and he pointed a finger at himself. "What iz zat supposed to mean, mon ami? Moi, le seul gentleman ici, not being a good modèle?"

"Well, ya think ya behaved like one right now, buddy?" Raising an eyebrow he watched the Spy's face. He could almost hear him thinking.

"Bien. Je vais faire parler avec le Scout. After 'is return, d'accord?" A bit reluctantly he gave in.

"Whatever this means. Sounds good. I leave this ta ya, gotta enough ta do without ya guys actin' like children." After a last, checking glance at the tire, Engineer left Spy alone with his thoughts.

The French took a look at his cigarette case. "Ben. Zis iz probably not the best moment to run out of cigarettes, I suppose." He sighed. "Zis voyage is quite irritating, n'est-ce pas?" Speaking to himself, he tugged the almost empty cigarette case away and went to Sniper. Maybe he had a packet of smokes, or two, he could spare.

x x x x x

"Okay, listen men! We cannot wait any longer, dusk is close." His voice firm, Soldier stood in front of the group. "The boy is missing for four hours, went without preparation into the wasteland, probably lost. As we only have three compasses and one has to stay back with the car we will go by two. Medic, your judgment. Are you coming with one of us or will you stay back?"

The German straightened his back, thinking for a second. "I vill stay here. Vhen you found zhe boy bring him back at once! Zhis is faster zhan me being out zhere, too, in case of an emergency." he finally answered.

The Soldier nodded. "Alright. Medic stays here. Demo and Sniper, you go west. Engineer and I check the north. Pyro and Spy, you go east. Return after 2,5 hours. Heavy, you patrol the area around the camp within a radius of two miles, check for tracks."

"Zhe zun iz already zetting, but be careful." Medic added. "It iz not zhat bright anymore, but still, zhose vizhout shades, don't stare directly into zhe zun or at one spot for too long. Shield your eyes az good az possible or you vill go blind."

Taking the warning serious they prepared for the search. This was the kind of diversion and delay they couldn't need at all. Although worried, they were angry at the Scout, reckless as ever, endangering all of them. Not too kind words were expressed, when Soldier again called to order.

"We will deal with this matter later. Save your strength and wit for the search ahead. We cannot afford to lose more men in the snow. And now hurry, time is not on our side."

"Aye, we should ram that bloody windbag headfirst into this snow when we find him and go." Grumbling, Demo checked the compass, waiting for the needle to point north.

"Mais Monsieur Demo, you know la règle non écrit, n'est-ce pas?" the Spy reproved with a gentle voice. "Ze unwritten law, no man left behind, even not 'im."

"Hell, this comin' from ya of all people." the one-eyed man snorted. "But yeah, ya right. No man left behind."

x x x x x to be continued x x x x x x

_Wow, a chapter ^^_

_Well, actually it's the first part of a chapter, but both part would have been a bit too long (maybe it's my own problem, I grow tired when I read chapters that are very long, even when they are great ^^). So I split it up, but this chapter x part y is kinda confusing, that's why we have chapter 6 & 7 that belong together. Does this make sense? _

_Anyway. Wow, they finally left. About time. _

_My lovely beta spellchecked, I checked too, but both of us were too tired for the final review ^^ This has to wait until tomorrow, so I apologize for more mistakes than necessary (fortunately God created the edit-button *g* )._

_Can't think of anything else to write right now._

_Zhe translations:_

_Spy:_  
><em>"Ah non, Monsieur, jamais! = Oh nein, mein Herr, niemals!"<em>

_Medic:_  
><em>"Zertainly not, nein, nein und nochmals nein! = "for the last time, no!"<em>

_Spy:_  
><em>but moi is no fan of zis enfant mal élève = but I'm not a fan of this spoiled baby.<em>

_S'il te plait = please (informal, addressing a single person. Polite or more than one: s'il vous plait. "when it you please" - when= si; te=you singular, plait = please)_

_"et va te coucher" = "leave me alone" (a proverb. Literally: and hit the pillow / und geh schlafen)_

_"Je n'il peux pas sentir when 'e stalks moi all day." = "I don't like it when he stalks me all day"_

_"Moi, le seul gentleman ici, not being a good modèle?" = "Me, the only gentleman here, not being a good role model?"_

_"Bien. Je vais faire parler avec le Scout. After 'is return, d'accord?" = "Fine. I'm going to talk to the Scout. After his return, okay?"_

_"Mais Monsieur Demo, you know la règle non écrit, n'est-ce pas?" = "But Mister Demo, you know the unwritten rule/law, don't you?"_


	7. Chapter 7

_[author's note] translations at the bottom of the chapter [/author's note]_

Snowbowl 7 – Encounters

"Quel hasard! Zis is no suprise, non?" Spy sighed, helping Pyro to remove a thin layer of snow from the slender body. "is 'e alive?" His eyes went from the Scout's frame to Pyro's hands, who, to his amazement, put off his gloves, revealing two slim hands, rough with what looked like burning marks, but not quite.

"'et ee 'ck" the small man mumbled through his mask, hurriedly moving his fingers under the boy's scarf, searching for his pulse. Holding his breath, Spy watched him, on one side feeling uncomfortable with the sight of the still, silent figure in front of them, on the other side frowning. For almost three years he had tried to investigate the Pyro, always been left empty-handed. No name, no facts about his past, not one glance at his skin. And there the mysterious pyromaniac knelt in the snow, exposing his hands without hesitation in a most casual way. Where was the fun in that?

"Aaa! 'rr 't 'ss. 'cout 'ss 'eak, 'ut st'll 'live!" the muffled voice almost shouted with triumph, Spy felt sure he was grinning behind the rubber skin.

"Well zen." The French took a thick blanked out of his backpack, trying to wrap the boy in it, put his arms under his legs and back and lifted him up. He could feel no warmth coming from the liveless body, stiff from the cold, betraying the positive diagnosis of the other man.

"Monsieur Pyro, let ze ozers know we will return, give ze signal.". Pyro nodded, pointed his flare gun at the sky above his head and fired. Now they could go back and finally continue their journey.

x x x x x

Satisfied with his work, Medic nodded. He and Pyro had fought and won the fight for the Scout's life. As soon as the two men had arrived with their lost companion, lying still and lifeless in the Spy's arms, Medic beckoned them into the trailer, having several more blankets and syringes ready. Only a few minutes later Soldier and Engineer had returned, soon joined by Sniper and Demo. Heavy was the last to return.

All men were cramping inside the car now, trying to help. Finally Medic decided two were enough and threw all of them out, expect the Pyro.

"Off vish zhe mask and gloves, zhis is not zhe time for your silly complexes now." he ordered firmly, already stripping down the clothes from Scout. Pyro made a rude, muffled remark, but did as he was told, soon helping the doctor to warm up the cold teen. Scout's skin soon was red, as they alternately rubbed his bare body with a rough blanket and massaged his feet and hands, slowly but eventually animating the blood flow again. When a faint reddish color returned to the boy's face they covered him with four or five blankets, with a few layers of tinfoil in between, to prevent the new ignited warmth from fading again. The Medic smiled half angrily, he was glad he had got his own way when Engineer and Soldier had tried to convince him to halve his medical equipment.

"Vell, zhis vill stabilise zhe circulatory system, zhe blood vill flow fast even vhen he is asleep." He injected one shot, then prepared another. "And zhis," he explained, "Zhis vill let him sleep for a vhile, he needs to rest." With his hand on Scout's forehead he checked the temperature.

"Not optimal yet, but vill do. isn't zhe irony amusing, Ramon? You almost burned to death, being a silent brooding character, zhe boy, loud and careless, almost froze to death, complete opposites." He chuckled.

"C...can't f..find it very a...amusing, M...Medic..." His face showed it was quite the contrary.

"Ah, you should, my friend. Vould help you more zhan all zhis mulling over your past. Hm, vhere is it..." He checked his pockets, bringing up to light several strange, small medical instruments.

Finally he found what he searched and switched on a small inspection lamp. He lifted first the one, then the other eyelid of his patient, flashing directly into the motionless eyes.

"W...what are y... you doing?" his assistant inquired.

"Checking his eyes. Look!" With a motion of his head he told Pyro to move closer. "Do you see zhis?" He switched the light off, waited a second and switched it on again.

"N...no.. nothing. B...bad..?"

"Speak vhole sentences vhen you are vith me." the Medic scolded impatiently. The young man frowned, bit his lip, and started again.

"I s...see not...nothing. I...is th..thi... is this bad?" he finally finished his question.

"Vielleicht, vielleicht nicht. Ah, sorry! Maybe. His pupils should dilate, but, as you see, or razher not see, zhey don't. Still constricted, yes..." he explained. "If zhe body vere stiff and vishout a heartbeat zhis vould be a sign of death. But as he's obviouzly isn't dead yet, vell. Vith no protection from zhe sun his eyes are probably overwrought from zhe light. Normally zhis does not happen vhen ve do not look right into the sun, but zhe white ground reflects ultraviolet radiation... I explain later." he concluded when he looked into Pyro's puzzled face.

"Basically, zhis means, too much brightness for too long causez vhat is called snowblindness. Vhen he vakes up he probably von't see nozhing." He switched off the light again and put it back into the breast pocket of his coat.

Pyro stared at him in shock. "He w...will go... b..blind?"

"No. He _is_ blind. But don't vorry, it is only temporary. Los jetzt, let's tell zhe ozhers."

x x x x x

"This is good news, doctor." Heavy nodded gravely. "Almost lost first man..."

Demo nudged him with his elbow.

"Shaddap, fatty. _Almost_ lost _a _man, and this was the bloody last time this happened, 'kay? No first, no second." the Scot grumbled. The Russian didn't respond, and everyone nodded in agreement. An incident like this must not be repeated. The reckless behaviour, caused by a minor, silly argument had almost cost a life and could have cost more.

"I will have a word with Scout once he is better." the Soldier stated. "He has to learn that he is not the hub of the world."

"Sure thing." Engineer agreed. "Just don't shout at the kid the first moment he opened his eyes."

"Vell, let's hope zhe temporary loss of his eyesight and zhe frostbite vill be a lesson for him. Vhatever avaits us outside zhis... desert... could be more dangerous. I vill have a talk wish him, too." Medic checked his watch. "But he vill be asleep for, let's see... at least eight more hours. Zhis means, only four of us and zhe driver can go inside, zhe rest vill valk? You don't vant us to vait here all night, nicht wahr, Herr Soldier?"

"Of course not, Medic." Soldier stiffened, ready to bark the next array of orders. For once, most of them were content with that, meaning they wouldn't have to think too much anymore for today. This day had been exciting enough, and for now everyone was fed up with the mere idea of discussions or arguments.

Soldier cleared his throat and set the arrangements for the night:"Medic, you stay with Scout. If you need any assistance, ask whoever you want, he will help, understood? Fine. Spy, as you probably lost a good deal of stamina carrying the boy back, you drive. The rest of us will walk. If anybody feels sick or weak, join Medic, he will inject something to fire you up. As long as the kid is asleep and as long as Medic is busy seeing after him, there will be no sleep for the rest of us, we lost enough time. We take the next break either when Scout awakes or the next blizzard happens. Got that? Pack up now! It's almost dark!"

Not before long the track was set in motion again, six men plodding through the snow, all of them exhausted and tired, but ready to go on.

x x x x x

"Oi mate, can I have a word with ya?" Sniper swung himself into the rolling vehicle, earning a disapproving glare from Medic.

"Vhat do YOU vant? Go away, I'm busy, I'll call Pyro vhen I need help." The German stretched his arms, feeling the stiff muscles of his neck. God, he felt tired.

"You ain't busy, saw you nodding off just a sec ago." The Australian sat down on the bench not occupied by the sleeping Scout, next to Medic.

"Sniper, vhat do you vant?" the man asked, indignantly, a dangerous tone in his voice.

"Soldier's order, wants ya to check on my rib, if the extra exercise t'day didn't make it worse again." Sniper yawned. The Medic groaned, annoyed. "Vill zhis haunt me vorever? Vell, get off zhe clothes and get over vish it." Without bothering to be careful his fingers slid over the only faintly bruised skin, pushed twice against the bone. He gave a sigh.

"You are fine, Sniper. Go and tell Soldier zhat. Leave me alone, I'm not in zhe mood of arguing vish you now." He leaned back and watched the boy lying on the opposite bench. He listened to the breathing with concern, the intervals were a bit too short, the respiratory rate a bit too high, the sound a little whistling. Medic hoped Scout wouldn't come down with pneumonia, but maybe he worried too much, those were probably only signs of a common cold.

"You are tired, ain't ya?" Sniper suddenly interrupted his thoughts, his voice placable and with a hint of concern.. With another sigh, Medic turned his head, looked at the Australian with an exhausted, but irritated expression.

"You still zhere? Of course I'm tired. Leave me alone now." He stifled a yawn and focused again on the boy.

"Why don't ya lie down and catch some sleep? I can look after Scout and wake you if something's off. Or if Soldier comes." he added.

Medic faced him again, and Sniper could tell from the look of the man's eyes the doctor thought he went totally insane.

"First, you are just to lazy to valk, I von't support zhat.. Second, you do not really zhink I vould sleep, alone vish you next to... vish you here."

Sniper suddenly grinned, feeling cheeky. "Ya afraid I might kiss ya again, when you are asleep, Wilhelm? Want me to kiss ya now that you are awake? I don't mind, ya know."

"Nicholas." The venomous voice was low, but intense. Medic pointed at a collection of filled syringes lying close to him. "Look at zhese. One of zhem puts a grown man to sleep wishin two or zhree minutes. Once zhe man is asleep and nobody could protect him... do you vant to now beforehand how many of zhem it takes to let you sleep forever or vill you finally _leave me alone_?" He was calm, that was what told Sniper he was not kidding. So the Australian buttoned his coat and wrapped the shawl around his head while staring at the Medics unblinking eyes.

"Fine, have it your way." He stood up, not to his full sise due to the low ceiling, hesitated a second and finally put his hand on the man's shoulder. "I still think you need some sleep, Will, that's all. Bye."

Medic watched him go with a frown, and released his breath once he was alone again. Absent minded he rubbed his shoulder where the Sniper's hand had been. His muscles still ached and yes, he wished he could sleep, if only for an hour or two. Only five minutes...

x x x x x

It was not warm, but not too cold, but certainly it was dark and the sounds and voices were disturbing. He tried to turn around and suddenly woke up when he fell with a loud thud on the floor of the car. Confused and dazed, he opened his eyes and looked around. A pile of blankets had softened his fall. Although it wasn't deep, falling on the hard metal floor wouldn't have been a nice sensation for his back and head. Finally the world around him took shape again. With an annoyed grunt he tried to free himself from the blanket that had fallen down with him. Two suppressed laughs made him look up. On the bench to his left sat Pyro, right at the feet of the still sleeping Scout. On the bench he obviously had slept on until only a minute ago, right at the end of were his feet probably had been – Sniper.

Medic rolled his eyes.

"Vhat is going on here? Vhy are you here and vhy vas I sleeping... vait!" He pushed the woolen cover away, got back on his feet and moved over to the Scout. "How is zhe boy?"

"Don't ya worry, mate." Sniper said reassuringly. "The boy's fine, nothing happened."

"'riit. 'ee 'ade 'ure 'e 's a'rght. 'l'pt 'eac 'lly, 'o t'prtur. R'glr 'art'eat. 'lm 'on, 'cter." Pyro added.

"Vell, it seems you already learned a lot from me, Pyro." With a faint smile Medic sat down on the bench, with enough space left between him and the Australian. "How about taking off zhat mask and briefing me on the details?"

"'ck 'u." the man snarled. The reaction made Medic laugh inwardly. 'Zhat Pyro. Vouldn't dare to speak to me like zhat wishout zhat zhing.'

"Lemme fill you in." Sniper offered, sorting the cards he and Pyro had been playing with. "Spoke with Soldier, told him you ordered me to take a rest. Yeah, yeah I lied, so what?" he defended himself when he saw Medic's glare. "When I came back, you were asleep. Tried to wake you, didn't work. Went back to Soldier, said you needed a rest, too, if anything could be done. He said it's okay, Pyro should look after the kid while you take a nap. Well," he grinned, "that weren't exactly his words. The point is, Pyro and I were on guard here, while you were asleep. The only catch... It's Pyro's turn to make breakfast, but that's your job now." he finished his explanation with a grin. "Too bad it wasn't Demos turn, Pyro's cooking skills are better than yours."

"Ach, halt die Klappe. Pyro, kindly inform Soldier I'm avake now and vill report to him any minute, just let me check on the boy, okay?"

The man nodded and left the car and Medic waited another moment until he could hear Soldier talking. He grabbed the Sniper by the collar of his coat, his eyes filled with anger.

"Stop bothering me! I don't vant to talk to you, if I could help it I vouldn't even look at you, you..."

The Australian grinned, seising the wrist of his attacker. "Well, you are welcome. Come on now, doc, let go, no reason to attack me. Not after I asked Pyro to join me all night, playin' chaperon for your modesty. I know you are afraid of me..."

But the Medic didn't let him finish his sentence, he gave him a violent shake so the back of the Sniper's head crashed against the metallic wall, forcing him to blink away the tiny stars dancing in front of his eyes. "I am not afraid of you, Nicholas." he hissed.

"Yes, you are. Or ya wouldn't get mad like that at me." Sniper hissed back.

"I tell you again, I am not afraid of you, but I vill not forgive you trying to rape me..." He shook him again, but Sniper had tensed in advance, his muscles absorbing the motion.

"Whoa, wait! Didn't I tell ya I wouldn't do THAT? I just wanted to touch ya, kinda like that." His hand darted forward, grabbing the Medics hair tightly, pulling the surprised man forward, giving him an angry, impatient kiss. "Bite me and I'll scream of the pain, loud enough." he threatened.

"Bastard, not zhis again..." But the Australian took advantage of those three words, and his tongue forced it's way into the German's mouth, not giving him a chance to pull back. Sniper sensed how his hunger increased again. Drawing back for a moment, he licked the other man's lip. "Give in already." he whispered.

"Never." The Medic tried to free himself from the Sniper's grip when the man kissed him again. Finally his fingers found a little item lying on the bench. He rammed a syringe into the Sniper's arm, right through his shirt.

"What the..." Sniper let him go, eyes widened.

"Zhis is zhe last warning. It is empty, or razher filled vish air. Trust me, you don't vant me to inject air into your bloodstream." With one pull he removed the needle.

"Vatch the boy, I'll talk to Soldier myself." He straightened his hair and his clothes.

"I was wrong, Will." Sniper apologised.

"Vell, about time you realise how you act vas..." Medic started while checking the Scouts temperature again.

"You misunderstand me, Will," the Australian fell into his word. "I was wrong about ya being afraid of me. You are afraid to admit you like it, that's what!" he triumphantly pointed a finger at the Medic, who only stared back at him in rage and disbelief.

"Once and for all, Nicholas. I'm not afraid of a dimwitted Hinterwäldler...bush men, I'm not afraid to like somezhing I hate, and I zertainly don't like you. I vill go now and take care of my duties. Oh, don't vorry, I vill prepare a meal you vill enjoy for sure, dear Sniper. Vatch the boy." he repeated, voice shaken with wrath.

Sniper gazed after him, thinking. "Fool yourself. If you really dislike me that much - why did you breathe like this when I just kissed you, eh?" He shrugged and turned his eyes to the sleeping figure. "You _are _still sleeping, aren't ya?" Scout, still being fast asleep, didn't answer, but the Sniper's stomach reacted with a deep, hollow growl. "Damn ya. Bein' on a diet today just when I'm about ta starve...".

x x x x x

"MEDIC! MEDIC! HELP ME! HELP ME!"

Hysterical screams made them all jump. At once they hurried back to the trailer, Medic climbing in first, grabbing the boy by his shoulders, trying to push him down.

"I CAN'T SEE HELP ME WHY DON'T YOU HELP ME I CAN'T SEE IT HURTS OH GOD THIS HURTS..."

"Shhh, calm down, beruhige Dich. I know. It vill get better, just calm down now."

As soon as he heard the voice with the German accent Scout stopped screaming, but his eyes were wide opened, filled with panic and fear. Then he started to cry, sobbing violently, a pathetic sight.

"Listen to me, Scout, hör mir zu." Medic spoke to him, but his voice didn't reach him.

"Blind. Blind. Why didn't I die, why did you bring me back..." the boy wailed.

Finally the doctor slapped him in the face, causing the men in the background to gasp.

"Do you hear me now, Scout?" With a stern look he watched the boy's face, as the unfocused eyes stared at some point behind them. But Scout nodded.

"Zhis vill be only for a vhile, two, zhree days, maybe four, but no longer. Do you understand, Scout?"

The boy nodded again. "Only for a while..." he repeated weakly.

"Zhat's a good boy." Medic let him go. "Are you hungry?"

"I... think so." Scout answered, still sounding like he was about to snap any second again.

"Good. I vill get you somezhing." He stood up, waving for Pyro. "You stay vith him, I vill be back in a few minutes."

"He can have my ration, I wasn't hungry." Sniper suggested slyly, and loud enough for the others to overhear.

"Don't be silly, Herr Sniper. Zhe boy is sick, I fix him zomezhing more nutritious. And ve zertainly don't vant to give him your cold left overs, nicht wahr, Herr Soldier?" he asked the veteran who stood next to him now.

"That's correct, doctor. Go now. I will talk to the boy once he finished his breakfast." the man agreed.

"Zhat's a good idea. Zhe sooner ve are done vish zhat matter zhe sooner ve can move on. Meine Güte, all zhis vasteland sure is depressing."

"Playin' Mister Sir leader Sir like his damn fiddle." But this time the Australian made sure his words were only heard by himself.

x x x x x to be continued x x x x x x

_Whoopee, another chapter xD_

_Wrote 6&7 within 24 hours, when I was to tired after 6 it still felt incomplete to be called "done" *meh*. So, two chapters are one, wonderful. ^^_

_Annoyed Medic is annoyed (by annoying Sniper who is _  
><em>annoying.). <em>

_Well, the story doesn't behave very well, I wanted to be much farther, but it refuses to listen to me xD Guess it has it's own mind and pace. As long as it doesn't pillage my fridge and steals my care it's fine. _

_Hope you liked it so far ^^_

_Ah, by the way! Thank you for your feedback, it really makes me happy (and almost cry ^^)_

_Would you like some translations?_

_Spy:_  
><em>"Quel hasard! Zis is no suprise, non?" "Well, what coincidence. This isn't a surprise, is it?"<em>

_Pyro:_

_"'et ee 'ck" = "let me check"_

_"Aaa! 'rrr 't 'ss. 'cout 'ss 'eak, 'ut st'll 'live!" = "HAAA! There it is. Scout is weak, but still alive!"_

_Medic:_

_"Vielleicht ja, vielleicht nein" = "Maybe yes, maybe no."_

_"Los jetzt" = "Let's go now"_

_"You don't vant us to vait here all night, nicht wahr, Herr Soldier?" = You don't want us to wait here all night, do you, Mister Soldier?"_

_Pyro:_  
><em>"'riit. 'ee 'ade 'ure 'e 's a'rght. 'l'pt 'eac 'lly, 'o t'prtur. R'glr 'art'eat. 'lm 'on, 'cter" = "Right. We made sure he's alright. Slept peacefully, no temperature. Regular heartbeat. Calm down, doctor..<em>

_"Ach, halt die Klappe!" = "Just shut up!"_

_Medic:_  
><em>"dimwitted Hinterwäldler." = redneck, bushy, bumpkin, hillibilly... you get the idea<em>

_"Shhh, calm down, beruhige Dich." = calm down._

_"Meine Güte, all zhis vasteland sure izs depressing." = "Oh my" or "Gee."_


	8. Chapter 8

[author's note]translations at the bottom[/author's note]

Snowbowl 8 – Past

„What new information do you have for us?"

„They are close. Maybe two or three days until they'll notice us."

„Hm." The man looked at the glass he held in his hand, watching the liquid amber. The little ice cube had almost completely melted away. The warmth coming from the radiator was nice and cozy, but it spoiled the coolness of his drink. He emptied the glass in one gulp.

His visitor's face contorted only for a second, unnoticed. How he hated that man, this would-be noble man, oh so accomplished in taste and style. Yet ruining the smooth note of one of the most finest single malts with ice cubes, downing it like it were nothing more than a glass of tape water. But he was wise enough to keep his thoughts to himself. For now, he was too excited about this job, his probably greatest challenge and oh, didn't he yearn to begin.

"Well," continued his current superior, re-adjusting his tie. "We will wait another day before sending the advance troop on its little rescue mission. Everything should be prepared until then. I trust you with this, see that my expectations are met, understood?"

With a smile, the subordinate implied a bow. "Of course, Sir, don't worry, everything will work according to the plan. Just leave this to me." He bowed again, and left, a grim expression on his face.

"Rather pretentious, for a tool." the man said once the door was closed, and poured another drink into his glass. "We will see about your usefulness." He pushed a button on his telephone. "Miss Johnson, more of those ice cubes."

x x x x x

It was another clear day, the sun was shining and they almost felt warm. Of course this was nothing more but an illusion, but still, it was a good feeling. The Scout was alive, and after two dishes of soup he soon started to complain, and getting on their nerves, so everyone was relieved that things were almost back to normal. Although Soldier only intended to allow a little rest for breakfast he didn't rush them. He had decided to push their luck with the weather, and even if he could not allow a longer break or let them go to sleep just now he thought it would brighten their all moods to delay their departure for an hour or two. But besides this reason, there was something else, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. With everyone staying close to the door of the trailer, just in case there was something wrong with the kid, or maybe just reassuring that everything was alright so far, it wasn't a problem for the veteran to hide for a few minutes on the opposite side of the car. Thinking was easier done when alone. After a few minutes he heard footsteps in the snow.

Engineer joined him, putting a hand on his arm. "Broodin' again, ain't ya? Any idea?" the shorter man asked.

"You feel it, too?" he asked back.

Engineer nodded. "Yeah. Feelin' like an old goat sensin' an earthquake. It's like... _something_... but..."

"Yes, that's it to a T." Soldier agreed. "There's something in the wind, but I just can't say what. It's different from sudden weather changes or trouble with the men... It drives me insane." he growled. A team needed a leader, someone who guided them. A role he was eager to fill, yes, but the responsibility he loved so much became a heavier burden day after day. No matter how strong his mind was, how much authority he aired, deep inside he was afraid he might become insane anytime. Too many memories of a past war came back to life and haunted him. Was he still up to this, wasn't he betraying his men's trust?

"Nah, don't do this ta ya." The Engineer read in his friend's face like in an open book. He checked if they were still alone, and as they were, he took the Soldier's hand in his and leaned against the man. "Ya worry too much. We gonna find this out when we find out. Until then – just let's be on guard. Whatever's the matter, you'll lead us and we'll fight with ya, got it, ya big Yankee?"

Soldier showed a weak smile, bowed down and placed a light, unshaven kiss on the Engineer's cheek. "Thanks, you cow-herding toymaker." His worries didn't vanish into thin air, but he felt better. Nothing they couldn't cope with as long as they stuck together, and he would lead them as long as this man next to him trusted him.

x x x x x

"This freakin' sucks!"

"Stop zhe complaining and let me have a look at zhese eyes. Ah, looks good..." He put away the little flashlight.

"Whaddya talkin' 'bout, nothin' looks good as I still can't see a frickin' thing man!" the boy almost shouted, but the German ignored the reproachful tone.

"Zhere vas a little reaction of zhe pupils, zhey responded to zhe light and finally dilated once I switched it off." he explained, more to the watching Pyro than to the Scout.

„'o 'ey 'r 'rcovrng?" the masked man answered.

"Ja, yes, zhey are. He vill be fine in a day or two." the Medic nodded.

"HEY! DON'T TALK LIKE I'M NOT HERE, DUMBASSES!" the teen yelled, angry and impatient.

"So I take it the boy is getting better and ready to work?" Soldier and Engineer climbed into the van, sitting down next to Pyro.

"Yeah right, Sucker, gotta run all night, 'kay, doesn't matter, as I'm still blind like a dead fish!" the boy sneered, staring blankly at the direction he heard the Soldier's voice coming from.

"You sound healthy and energetic enough to me, short pants, maybe I should have you..." Soldier growled, but the Medic interrupted.

"Zhe boy is not vell enough yet, Herr Soldier, give his eyes two more days, zhen he vill be of help again."

"Hrmpf." Still annoyed by the aggravating as ever behaviour of the Scout, Soldier glared back at the boy, although he was aware how pointless this was.

Engineer laughed at this, but got serious again. "Medic, you think he got enough rest? We should get movin' soon and some of them boys needed a break and a little sleep, too."

Before the Medic could answer, Scout got angry again. "Stop this! Don't talk like I'm not in this fuckin' room with ya!"

A low chuckle made their heads turn.

"Ah non, we are not very polite, are we?" Spy had entered the car as well, the vehicle becoming crowed with four men on the benches and two standing. "What a mess. Looks like our petit lapin needs a chien guide d'aveugle. Une imagination très drôle."

"Shuddap, Frogs, nobody gives a shit 'bout ya opinion." Scout let himself fall back on the bench, turning his face to the wall.

"Ah non, mon ami, quelle harsh words. J'ai tout lieu de croire you did not even understand what I said to you." The French leaned against the frame of the door, his hands inside the pocket of his overcoat, one of his feet teasingly kicking against the boy's covered leg.

"Leave me alone, motherfucker. If you were from where I come from..."

At these words, everyone gave a sigh. Not this again! Angry, happy, whiny, proud, snobbish... whatever mood the Scout was in, sooner or later it came down to this one sentence.

Suddenly another voice was heard from outside, deep, sonorous. A voice they knew well, they were used to it when angry or laughing or mocking.

The Heavy spoke like lost in deep thoughts, in an unusual, meditative, sad manner.

"Leetle man forget all men have 'where I come from'." he said slowly. Engineer tried to look past the Spy. The Russian stood next to the opening, casting a large shadow, while his fingers were playing with something. Narrowing his eyes, the Texan finally could see the pendant dangling from Heavy's hand, the very pendant that had started the whole of yesterday's trouble. But the Russian hadn't finished yet.

"Leetle Scout to learn still has that many 'where I come from' we have. Come from many places. Left behind many places. Blood spilled, people dead, people buried. Memories buried." Carefully he took the amulet in his hand, caressing the surface with his big thump. "Left behind all, forced we was often. Scout understand that and Scout understand young he is. Too young to have many 'where I come from'. But me, me too old is to impress with one leetle 'where I come from'. For Scout, important. For us, is not." He fell silent. The others didn't speak. Faces looking grave, eyes haunted by old memories awaken by Heavy's words like long forgotten and unwanted ghosts.

Even Scout didn't say a word or turned around, but the boy gave a little, uncomfortable shudder under his blanket, sensing the changed atmosphere, not able to imagine what his team mates were thinking about, but aware of the melancholy and sadness, of a force he couldn't understand, unsure if he wanted to.

Finally, Engineer stood up.

"Here, Heavy, chain's still broken, yeah? Lemme have a look, I gonna fix it." He left the trailer, Soldier, his hat pulled over his eyes, and Spy, the cocky grin vanished from his lips, joined him.

Pyro didn't feel the impact of the past as strong as the others. His face, his hands, his body – they all reminded him of the place he came from every day. No matter how hard he had tried to bury all of this, he failed. So he had accepted he couldn't run away.

For a moment he wondered what stories the others would have to tell, if they ever decided they would share them. A sigh next to him caught his attention. Of course, their Medic, too, had a past he knew nothing about. He watched the German, how his face was darkened by a shadow of reminiscences, troubled and pained. And it dawned upon him how important this man was, and the other men, and their work. Complete strangers, yet they gave him the comfort he needed to go on. Not only were they a team of specialists, but also refugees who found a place to exist and to live for. He knew it was dangerous to think like that, to admit their importance to each other. They lived on the edge, and anyone could die anytime, and grief would only be another burden to the team's unbalance when one of them was suddenly gone.

Uneasiness grew inside him. Times tended to end, time tended to change and what would become of them when their team's time ended? Another place they once came from, another buried memory, another story of losses and left behinds? Pyro's gaze was unfocused as he reflected about those things, he didn't even notice Medic gazing back at him, until the German started to speak.

"Ve should go outside and see if ve can help. Some of us," He looked at the slim frame of the boy, pretty sure Scout could sense it when somebody stared at his back, "need some time to zhink. Zhank you." He took his coat and gloves from the Pyro's hand, and both left the car, too.

x x x x x x

For the next few hours, especially Heavy, Spy and the Medic were in low spirits. For a change they welcomed their march and were relieved when their journey finally continued. None of the witnesses of the small incident in the trailer felt a lot like sleeping, so they generously allowed Demo and Sniper to share the place inside with Scout and get some sleep. The two men soon had realized something was different, but they didn't ask. If something was really wrong, they would have been told, as they weren't, well, it wasn't too important.

Inwardly both, the Scot and the Australian, decided to ask questions later. For now, they were glad they could doze off, and even had the luxury of enough space to stretch their legs. They wondered at the Scouts quietness for a second, but remembered how Soldier had promised to have a serious talk with the boy. Obviously he had. Soon, they passed out while the old tires of the strange, bulky vehicle fought their way over the frozen ground.

Sniper abruptly sat up when he heard excited voices from outside. With a yawn, he pushed the covers away and shivered when the cool air surrounded him. Quickly he put on his pants and shirt. Demo was already up, teeth chattering from the cold. He had been too tired to get undressed and slept in his clothes. They jumped out of the trailer, shielding their eyes from the sudden brightness.

"Bloody sun of a bitch, ya kiddin' me? Thought I slept longer than that." Cursing, Sniper wrapped his shawl around his neck, wondering why the others stared at him. He was even more puzzled when he heard suppressed chuckles from the men.

"Sniper bad grasp of time. Is noon again. A day slept you have." Heavy grinned broadly at the Australian and the Demoman, whose healthy eye widened. Finally, Demo burst with laughing.

"Aye, last time me passed out like this eet was me old uncle Sean's moonshine ta blame! At leest no hung over this time."

Sniper joined the laughter. Had he really slept that long? He must have been really worn out, especially since he wouldn't even be awake now if it weren't for the voices... That reminded him why he left the car in the first place, and he turned to Soldier.

"What's all the excitement 'bout? Heard ya talkin' all the way into dreamland. Somethin' happened?"

The laughter subsided and suddenly stopped when they heard a thudding noise coming from the trailer.

"What's goin' on, man? Come on, don't leave me out like this!" Scout called, clinging to the door to keep balance, his knees suspiciously reddened. Obviously he had hit the floor or wall when he tried to find his way from the bench to the door.

"Pyro, stop zhat car for a moment!" Running a few steps ahead, Medic gave Pyro a sign, then he went to the boy and helped him to sit down. Sniper had already slipped past the boy, inside the car and put a blanket around the Scout's shoulders. All of them assembled around the door now.

"'kay, mate, what's the matter?" Sniper asked again.

Soldier pointed at the horizon ahead.

"First, I thought my eyes were playing a trick on me. A bit later Engineer told me he thought he saw something move. As nothing else was to be seen we didn't talk about it, when Spy and Heavy suddenly became excited. They, too, had seen it. _Something_ was there. And gone again."

"If I was not blind I'd run and check it out..." Scout muttered, unusually demure.

"Nah, don't fret yaself, son." Comfortingly, Engineer patted on his back. "Can't be helped now, right? How are ya anyway?"

The boy shrugged. "Okay, I guess. Still can't see nothing."

"Don't worry 'bout that, doc said you gonna be okay." The Texan looked at the Medic, who nodded.

"Das ist richtig. Correct."

"Leetle Scout rest. Have energy for scouting all country when healthy." Heavy smiled. "Wait you will, da?"

"Da, erm, yeah, I mean." the boy grinned, too, already in a better mood. "Did it come back?" he asked.

"No." Soldier shook his head. "No idea if it was an animal or human or something, there is no mistake about one thing: we are not alone."

They looked at him, not sure if they should be happy about this turn of events or worried.

"'at 'ill 'ee u 'ow? 'urry uu 'nd 'eck?" The news agitated Pyro. Maybe there were dangers ahead, and all he had was his shotgun and his ax. Enough to fight alright, but he felt more comfortable with his flamethrower. But his favorite weapon was useless without gasoline and he wouldn't get his hand on the supplies as long as Engineer insisted on using all of it for their car. Of course this was a very sensible decision, but still...

Soldier looked at the short man, but of course he couldn't read anything from staring at a rubber mask. "No," he answered at last. "We camp now. Pyro, Medic, you fix dinner. After that, we get as much rest as we can. Demo, Sniper, you keep guard! After five hours you wake me and Engineer and we take over. We decide after three or four hours if another shift is due. I want everyone to regain as much strength and stamina as possible. Engineer, check if you can spare some gasoline for Pyro's flamethrower. Everyone, check your gear. Maybe we saw just a rabbit. Maybe our enemy comes closer. Maybe the devil himself. Be prepared!"

x x x x x x

His eyes shone with amusement when he saw into the nine faces in front of him. No, he corrected himself, there were only eight. One man hid his face behind a hideous gas mask and obviously didn't intend to remove it. How impolite. After all, he was their host. But none of them showed what could exactly be called refined manners.

Maintaining his own poker face he tried to read from the men's expressions, only to acknowledge they knew how to hide their emotions. The blank stare of the youngest of them was irritating, like the boy was looking right behind his eyes, unimpressed by all he represented. Under the given circumstances he couldn't help admiring their countenance. Nine rundown men, badly shaven, dark shadows under their eyes. At first, the whole extend of their shabbiness had been hidden under those ugly, gray coats. As soon as his... guests... had realized they really had escaped the cold they hesitantly put the cloaks aside, showing their uniforms.

He had tried hard not to wrinkle his nose in disgust. How undignified they looked. The clothes had lost their colors, but this wasn't the worst of it. Shabby was the best word to describe what he had to look at. Badly stitched tears, stains of oil and dirt and something that he was certain was blood. The seams of their pants had come apart, and the boots... he refused to stare for any more second at those boots. How fortunate they had brought new clothes along, he knew he wouldn't be able to bear those sad sights for long. He wasn't so sure if the size info in their files was correct, though. All of them looked a bit pinched, he wondered, compared to the official photographs. Well, he disliked bad dressed men, but he'd rather deal with slightly ill-fitting outfits than with those... scarecrows. He drew back the corners of his mouth, exposing his white teeth. With this smile, he put another ice cube in his glass and cheered to his visitors. But they didn't follow his invitation and ignored the drinks in front of them.

"Well, well, isn't that fortunate we finally found you? We've been searching for you forever. Our client was almost worried sick when he lost contact to you. 'They are my best men! Please, find them!' he told me over and over again. Imagine! Lost! In the desert! How lucky our paths crossed after all!" He gave a heavy sigh and took another sip of his drink.

"Desert, my ass." the boy suddenly spitted. "This ain't no desert, man, that's frickin' Alaska!"

"Scout!" the large man with the gray helmet barked. "Don't interrupt."

Ah! So the kid with the vexing stare was the Scout. He refrained from rolling his eyes. What a primitive way to speak in his presence.

"Well, young friend, we are still in the desert. I won't object, the weather is a bit unusual these days, but be assured, sooner or later we are going to reach warmer areas of this place. Please understand we cannot travel at full speed, the temperature must have affected the tracks."

"At least the heatin' works in that darn thing." the man with the yellowish helmet muttered, but he ignored the remark. He certainly wouldn't discuss this with a simple workman.

"Anyway, you are not simply my guests, you are my guests of honor as it was our mission to rescue you from your dire fate. A whole compartment is prepared for you. You will find beds, clothes and the necessary items to... freshen up... I'll arrange some refreshments to be brought to you. Please feel at home and rest. We can continue this delightful conversation tomorrow."

He leaned back into his chair, with a mild, patronizing smile. Obviously the man who called the boy to order was their leader, as they all looked at him, and followed once he stood up. From what he remembered when he had read the files his alias was Soldier.

The group followed one of his subordinates, who brought them to their accommodation.

Once he was alone, he gave a sigh. Were those rag-men really elite mercenaries? They looked like a gang of bums to him, impossible to imagine them fighting on a battlefield, let alone being a challenge to anyone. Well, it was part of the contract. Find them, he was ordered, and he did.

x x x x x x to b e continued x x x x x x

_Woohoooo! Chapter 8!_

_I know I'm late -_- real life is rather demanding these days, sappin' ma strength, I'm sorry. The weekend I'll be busy, busy, busy (gonna move to my own place again soon, many, many preparations to be made -_-)._

_And I finished chapter 9 last night, but my beta is at a convention and probably won't have time to "work" before Monday._

_Well, that's my problem ^^ Woohoooo again, something happens, yessss. And I come closer to some of the scenes I'm yearning to write. This chapter will probably cause many questions, but before you wonder - they are going to be answered. Later. And you are not alone, the team (and my beta) doesn't know more than you, so don't feel too confused or angry with me ^^_

_I'm sorry I potrayed Heavy a bit different. I can't see him as the absolute baby (although it's fun in other fanart). Maybe a bit simple, not highly educated, but certainly not downright stupid and naive. And emotinal (not the crybaby way, when sth's funny, he laughs, if he's annoyed he's angry and doesn't ask questions). I hope you can like him anyway ^^_

_Anyway, here are the translations, if I forgot something, please tell me:_

_Pyro:  
>„'o 'ey 'r 'rcovrng?" = „So they are recovering?"<em>

_Spy:_

_"Ah non, mon ami, quelle harsh words. J'ai tout lieu de you did not even understand what I said to you." = „Oh my, my friend, what harsh words. I'm quite certain you did not even understand what I said to you."_

_"Looks like our petit lapin needs a chien guide d'aveugle. Une imagination très drôle." = Looks like our little bunny needs a guide dog. A very funny image."_

_Medic:  
>"Das ist richtig." = "that's right"<em>

_Pyro:  
>"'at 'ill 'ee u 'ow? 'urry uu 'nd 'eck?" = "What will we do now? Hurry up and check?"<em>


	9. Chapter 9

_[author's note]translations at the bottom[/author's note]_

**Snowbowl 9 – Pay Attention!**

With a swooshing noise the slide door closed behind them. Once it snapped in, all of them gave a sigh of relief. After months of isolation and cold they felt awkwardly out of place, now, standing in a large train compartment, surrounded by warmth, no air drafts, no snow, no storms. Amazing how fast a human can adapt to unusual circumstances. They had adapted so well to the hostile conditions, now the luxury of a real shelter, radiators and electricity over-strained their senses. Although the wagon wasn't extraordinary large it seemed unusual broad. It was big enough to include ten large seats, all of them could be converted into beds, several small tables, bookshelves and even a little fireplace, containing a vividly burning fire. Too small to heat the whole room, ornamental only, nothing more. The reflection of the bright red flames danced in their eyes, mocking them, the crackling and sizzling laughing at them, how their survival more than once had depended on a small campfire.

Demoman was the first who broke the spell that had seized and petrified them. He wandered behind a narrow, longish table, searched the cabinet hanging on the wall and laughed with triumph. In his hand he held a bottle of whiskey. Smiling, he turned around and, after a few steps, let himself fall on one of the cozy, old-fashioned club chairs of the same crimson red as the thick carpets that covered the floor. He snuggled down in the soft velour, opening the bottle, taking a sniff.

"Aye, good stuff. Right temperature, too. Bloody Hell!" he protested when Medic suddenly stood in front of him, taking the bottle from his hand.

"Herr Demoman, you has dropped zhat alcohol abuse for weeks now. I vill not allow you starting again."

"Shove ya yak-yakkin' up yar arse, Sawbones!" he responded rather ungallantly, but didn't try to get his drink back.

"Zhank you for zhe instructions, I rather shove it up your brain." The Medic looked at the bottle, and sniffed, too, after reading the label. "Indeed, zhis is good." He closed the bottle and put it back where it came from and brought another bottle from a tablet with several different drinks.

"Have zhis."

Demo looked at the liquid and groaned. "Water. Ain't ya good to me."

Finally, the rest of the team started to move as well, searching their new accommodation. With a low voice, Soldier ordered them to check everything – furniture, decoration, lamps, books, even the carpet and the refreshments – just in case their hosts had placed bug-devices.

Pyro led the still blind Scout to one of the chairs so the boy could sit down. He soon felt frustrated, hearing how everyone was whispering and bustling about, while he could only listen. The feeling of uselessness made him more uncomfortable than he ever had been during the last months. Fifteen minutes, not able to do anything, stretched like eternity, even more unbearable than months of waiting or days of traveling in the freezing cold, when he could have done everything that was necessary, as soon as somebody would have ordered him to.

Once he heard the growling voice of the Soldier speaking at its usual volume, he knew the search had ended, obviously without a result. Probably, this was good.

His own stomach suddenly gave a growl that easily matched Soldier's voice. Again he swallowed hard on his own helplessness, when, a few seconds later, he felt the rubber gloves of Pyro's hands, when the man wrapped Scout's fingers around a warm cup.

"'eeer, 'rink 'at. 'ers 'o 'oood 'yt."

Carefully he moved the cup to his lips. Hot milk. 'That's just like it. Treat me like a baby.' But he didn't complain and drank.

"Sit down, men." Soldier ordered. "Okay, this place is clean. But be careful with what you do and say to anyone outside this room."

Sniper tilted his head, his arms crossed. "Oi, not very trustworthy, these folks, right? Dunno, it's too good to be true, or am gettin' paranoid..."

Soldier flinched at the word 'paranoid', but nodded.

"Zhis Herr Schmidt... sorry... _Smizh_... certainly talked a lot, vizhout saying anyzhing. Vell, I prefer zhis over zhe cold, but sending an elite search team, and a train like zhis for mere mercenaries? Zhis is strange..." Medic wondered, sceptically eyeing the liquid he had poured for himself, holding the glass against the dim light of one of the lamps to judge the clarity of the color.

Heavy, sitting next to him, didn't waste his time with such precautions and emptied his glass.

"Everything very smooth. Want us dead, why not kill? Shoot from afar? Throw bomb or to die in cold us leave? Why like guests they us treat? Is good. Everything is good. Too good. Words of man good, but his face is not." he muttered.

"You are all right, boys." the Engineer agreed, looking like he was about to fall asleep in his chair, his voice equally tired. "After all this time in this darn summer camp, after the darn travellin'... suddenly it's so easy? Why didn't they come earlier? Why like this?" He shook his head. "I agree with ya, this Smith-guy ain't ta be trusted..."

"'at ou 'ink 'ee 'ould 'uuu? 'eave? 'sty?" Pyro asked the question they all had in mind. "'ostly, I 'nt 'oo 'fnd 'ut 'ats 'ging 'oo. 'ybee 'eee 'ould 'sk mrcnray-tyl." His voice was excited, his skills had rested for far too long.

'Ain't fair...' Scout thought by himself. 'When I say stuff like that Spy'd hit me and they'd yell I betta shut up.' Just while thinking about that, Spy spoke up.

"Mais non, mon ami équivoque, je voudrais bien voir ca imbécile Smiz burn, mais I think zis is dangerous. We shall investigate more... subtil... how do you say... underhand?" His eyes looking at the ceiling, he smiled while he spoke.

"I zhink you mean 'subtle', but yes, I agree wizh zhe Spy." Medic nodded. "I agree wizh everyzhing."

"Yes, so do I." Suspiciously, Soldier shot a glance at the Frenchman. "And you, Spy, you probably have THE man for the job in mind."

"Mais bien sûr, ahem, but of course. Gentlemen, zis falls in my line of work. I will start as soon as I had a shower and changed my suit. Et tous les vous... all of you, should do zat, too." He wrinkled his nose just like their host had done a little while before. "Vous empestez comme... you stink like a gang of clochards... 'obos! Monsieur Smiz will catch your scent at once, n'est-ce pas?"

The others laughed. They, too, had noticed that the man's behaviour was strange, but now that Spy mimicked his facial expression in this exaggerated manner, they knew what his problem had been. Even if they had got used to the lack of hygienic, they couldn't blame their host or anyone else for not being too enthusiastic about their recent odor.

"It's settled then, Spy." Even the Soldier couldn't hide a grin. "Here's my order: you, too, will eat and rest. We take turns as before, always two on guard, pay attention everyone. Maybe this will be a battlefield tomorrow, or we are on an ordered retreat, take the opportunity to eat and sleep!"

"Bien, mon ami Soldat." By now, the French rummaged one of the large chests, that obviously contained spare clothes for them. He gave a satisfied whistle when he found a complete suit, tie, shirt and mask included. "Très bien." With his loot he went to the back part of their compartment that, as one of the staff members had explained before, led to a small bathroom. They had been advised not to use the shower longer than five minutes at once or they would run out of hot water, but compared to the icy alternative back in Dustbowl even one minute would have been like paradise.

Spy left the room, closing the door behind him.

Meanwhile, the Engineer had watched the Scout. It was unusual for the boy to be this quiet, he hadn't added anything to the conversation at all. However, he had been rather withdrawn for a while now. The Texan hoped the boy would regain his old spirits once his eyesight returned. But that left another problem unsolved.

With a determined face Engineer suddenly stood up, walked up to the Scout and pulled him out of the chair on his feet.

"Engineer? Tha...that's you? Whaddya doin', man?" Scout asked, flabbergasted, while he was dragged through the room. The others stared, equally confused.

"There, son." Engineer opened the door to the bathroom, ignoring the protesting words of the Spy, and shoved the boy in, too.

"Pay attention, ya two! Don't keep draggin' ya darn bitch-fights into our mission here! Ya'll stay inside until ya sorted ya shit out, got it?" With that, he shut the door and blocked the handle with a nearby chair.

"WHAT?" he demanded, when he met his teammates' eyes once he turned around.

Suddenly, everyone, Engineer included, burst out with laughter. Chuckling, he grabbed a bottle of beer from the table and sat down in one of the chairs. Sniper followed his example, but patted him on the shoulder before he returned to his chair.

"Oi mate, yer really a fuckin' genius, ya know, Tinkerbell?"

"Let's hope ya right, pardner. Lately, some of ma ideas weren't the best. And didn't I tell ya before, don't call me that?" Inwardly, he wondered how long it would take until the bathroom would be free again.

x x x x x x

"Oh non."

Scout could hear how bare feet walked past him, followed by a rattle at the door, when Spy tried in vain to open it.

His knees hurt. He had lost his balance when he had suddenly been pushed, and landed on the hard floor. The surface was cold and even - tiles. The smell of smoke lingered in the air. He searched around with his hands, to find anything that would tell him something about his room. The size, how it was furnished, shape, anything. He didn't know anything and again he felt lost, the same way he did when he got lost in the snowy desert. The floor was endless, the faster he searched, the faster his heart beat, his breath not catching up, spinning, everything was bright, everything spinning and spinning...

"Rependre-toi, Scout! Ne t'emporte toi, leve! Tu n'est pas seul, idiot, je suis ici. Respires tranquille, avec lenteur... breaz slowly, tu me comprends? Do you understand? Scout?" It took a while until the half annoyed, half worried words seeped into his brain, barely he realized that someone had taken his arm and pulled him back onto his feet. He stumbled again, clutching his fingers around some fabric. Finally his mind stopped spinning when he smelled the odd mixture of smoke, dirty fabric and the man who still held him steady, and in whose shirt he had buried his face just now. The moment he realized who he hung on, he let loose at once, taking a step back, almost falling again.

"Idiot." the French snarled, still holding the boy's arm. "Do not behave comme une vierge. Let me guide you." Roughly Scout was shoved across the room and when he felt Spy pushing him on his shoulders he carefully sat down. Groping around he checked the piece of furniture. Probably some kind of wooden footstool or folding chair. This situation was humiliating, losing his balance and his cool in front of _that _guy – the worst.

"Don't call me idiot, idiot!" he snapped at the direction he thought him standing.

"Ah well, may I take it the ozer things are okay wiz you?" The French mocked him.

"You know damn well I don't understand ya fuckin' retarded gab, Frogs." Yes, he definitely would not let him have any moments of triumph over him.

Spy only sighed. For a second there was silence, when Scout heard a rustling sound.

"Wait, whaddya doin'?"

"Bien, undress my handsome self, of course. I am here to take a shower, not to babysit you." was the nonchalant answer.

"Jeez fuck, locked in with a naked Sneak, guess I'm lucky to be blind after all." He faked a choking sound. "What is it?" he hissed when he didn't hear anything after that, but felt the presence of the other man close by. Very close.

Once the Spy spoke again, Scout realized he stood right in front of him, even the grin was audible.

"So it is true."

"What's true, freakin' rat?" He intended to sound angry, aloof.

"You like me." Not a question, a statement.

Scout was speechless. How could this guy dare...

"Like ya? I HATE ya, goddamned motherfuckin' son of a... no, stop that!" He withdrew until his back hit the wall, unable to hide or ignore the shiver that the touch of a long, slim, almost boney finger caused when it ran down the skin of his throat and finally rested on his collarbone.

"Don't do that, ya freak!"

The short, characteristic staccato laughter was the reaction to his protest.

"That ain't funny!" He lifted his arms to push Spy away, blindly, and gave a jump when his hand touched the bare skin of the man's stomach. Immediately, he pressed his arms close to his own chest. "That ain't funny..." Same words, less angry, more confused.

"You like me. It is obvious."

"Wha... what do ya mean, I do not..."

"Non, non, Scout, it is pointless, we can continue zis all night. You do, I can see it, so do not deny." The French sighed, now less mocking, but with a tone Scout couldn't define.

"See it.. hey, where are you looking at?" he protested sharply.

This caused the Spy to laugh again. "Oh Scout, Tu révéles yourself. Where do you zink I look at to ask zis question? Ah, do not worry, I will not tell anyone. But," footsteps moved away, a water tap turned and water started to flow, "but I have to disappoint you, Scout. I do not react ze same. Ah, too bad."

Within seconds the air changed, becoming warmer and warmer, and moist. Uncountable drops of water constantly rushing down, their sound different from falling to the ground when they covered bare skin.

The Scout felt the heat in his cheeks, knowing his face was flushed. He drew his legs close to his body, embracing his knees with his arms. Many curses whirled in his mind, many insults, too many to choose from lightly. He couldn't stand all this humiliation. What would have happened if he were able to see right now? What would he do, attack? Fight?

Finally, he gave up.

"Why not?" he more whispered than spoke.

"Why not what, Scout?" came the counter-question, mixed with the sound of the water.

"Why do you not like... why do you hate me?" Would he have dared to ask this if he had to see the Spy's face? He didn't know. Probably not.

Silence again, only the water kept flowing, pattering on the tiled floor.

When Spy spoke, his words were neither teasing nor unfriendly, but not really friendly either.

"I do not hate you. Hate, love, such strong emotions..."

"Because me bein' a guy?" Scout interrupted.

"Because you being a child." The French corrected matter-of-factly. "Merde! Five minutes are such a short time..." The tape was closed, footsteps padding across the wet floor. Scout heard him searching for something, then the man was close to him again.

"Move over."

Scout tried to move a bit to the left, not changing his current pose. Spy sat down next to him, he could feel the man's warmth, and the moisture caused by the water on his naked body... The boy turned his empty gaze to the ground, swallowing hard.

"Bien." the man sighed. "It is true, je ne... I don't like you very much, Scout. Do not interrupt. Male, female, zat does not matter to me, non. J'aime des hommes fascinant, I like fascinating people. Je suis désolè, mais you, you are not. You are loud, egoistic, embêtant... annoying... I do not lie, moi, I razer get involved with zis Pyro of ours, he est un caractère très mystérieux..."

"You don't even know what the freak looks like!" Scout interposed, shocked. The most unlikely, the one none of them knew anything about, better, more interesting than him?

"It is not about looks, Scout. Ah, you do not understand, zis is why you are en enfant, a child. Grow up, and maybe you will be interesting one day, even for me. Maybe not. Je ne sais pas." Still, Spy sounded indifferent, but he spoke without malice. The Bostonian realized this wasn't about being mean or unfair. The French was just plain honest. And that was worse.

"Hurts..." He really felt bad now and suddenly he wondered if that really was what all were thinking of him. What if all was a lie? If the people, his friends, from home didn't respect him, didn't look up at him? He thought he had been admired by them all, back then, in Boston.

"Zhis vill only sting for a moment."

"Huh?" Scout lifted his head. "That sounds different..." This was confusing. The Spy chuckled.

"You do not recognize our very doctor, lapin?"

"You can imitate him?" His confusion grew, but also his admiration.

"All imitate can. Leetle trick this is." Spy's voice suddenly became deeper, not quite matching Heavy's bass, but still enough to sound unmistakable like the Russian. He chuckled again, but with his own voice.

"Scout," he continued. "They are all very interesting, with their specific manners, spleens, voices. But you will never learn this if you do not observe, if you do not listen and pay attention to what they do. Did you ever wonder why only you ask 'whaddya say whaddya say?'? Our friends do not know much more French than before. But they learned to understand me, they do not need the words, and I do not need their words. We understand with experience.

Stop thinking about yourself only, stop thinking you are already great or a man. Then you eventually will grow up, too, and realize what it means, to meet someone interesting. Or to be." The man stood up again, searching for something else.

Scout thought for a moment, something was different, again.

"Ya almost spoke without an accent at all, how do ya...?" This was even more irritating than the imitation of the other team members.

"Moi, I can do zat, if I want. I tell you a secret, mon ami, do not tell the ozers, tu m'approuves, hein? I can drop mon accent, mais... it is stressful, requires to concentrate very hard, so I do not like to do it if not necessary." He laughed again.

"Do not be sad, petit Scout. Chagrin d'amour, it hurts. I will not tell zem about our little secrets, do not worry. I do not like you back, but I do respect tes sentiments. Je suis un gentlemen after all."

Scout didn't say anything, he just listened. To the voice, the steps, the two persons breathing in this room.

"Can I ask ya a question?" he finally said, unusual shy.

"What is it?"

"You... you... do not wear your mask now, do ya?" In this moment, he wasn't sure what he'd prefer more – being blind or being able to see. However, as he felt how the Spy looked and grinned at him, he wished he hadn't asked.

"Even moi has to wash his hair sometimes, Scout, et maintenant, right now, I comb my beautiful, wavy and wet hair. Curious?" For the first time, his voice sounded really friendly, but he laughed again, when the boy nodded.

"Bien, grow up zen, and I might show you. For now, what's your name, lapin?"

"Eh, what?" Scout was sure he misheard him. He must have. Their real names were their biggest secret, and not to be told. Of course he knew not everyone kept to this rule, especially when real friendships developed over the time. But he knew none of them by their real name, had never asked. And never was asked.

"I say, we agree on un armistice... ceasefire as you say. Or Monsieur Engineer does not open the door. Zis is mon peace offering, do you accept?"

"Matt. I mean, Matthew Andrews."

"Bien, moi, je m'apelle Jean-Luc Teyssier." His answer was kind of muffled, and Scout assumed he was putting back on the mask. "Come, Matthew." Spy continued and helped Scout to stand up, who clung to his arm, afraid to slip again. They went to the door, took a deep breath, and knocked.

"Come one, ya damned bastards, let us out!" Scout yelled while Spy banged against the door with his free hand. But Scout hesitated for a moment, when he leaned a bit more against the French, to keep balance.

"What the... you are still naked!" he gasped.

"Alors, cannot get dressed wiz your lusting gaze at moi, non?"

"Idiot."

"Imbécile. Do not worry, Zis towel will protect... but who from who?" Again his typical chuckle.

"You...!"

"Are ya two behavin'? Sorted it out?" They heard the muffled voice of their mechanic.

"Mais oui, Monsieur Engineer. Nous sommes les best buddies now. Open zis door, s'il vous plait."

"Ah warn ya, any more nonsense from ya and ah won't just ground ya." With more rumbling than necessary the chair was removed and the door opened.

x x x x x to be continued x x x x x

_Wow, when I thought about something about TF2, I never thought a soul would encourage me to upload it. After the upload, I didn't think I should continue, but my beta promised to kill me if I didn't. ^^_

_Now here's chapter 9. I needed some screentime for Spy to display more of his character, and the ScoutvsSpy-matter was still a problem, but thankfully Engie had a good idea that helped me to solve this _

_I don't know when I will write Chap 10, I hope this week, but in a few days I'll move and there are 100000 things to be done... I'll try ^^ _

_Now, here the translations (I hope I'll come to more Medic soon, French is so complicated ^^), sometimes I haven't translated single words, 99% of them Spy translates himself right away, 1%... I forgot ^^ if you miss something, tell me:_

_Pyro:_  
><em>"'eeer, 'rink 'at. 'ers 'o 'oood 'yt." = "Here, drink that. There's no food yet."<em>

_"'at ou 'ink 'ee 'ould 'uuu? 'eave? 'sty?" = "What you think we should do? Leave? Stay?"_

_"'ostly, I 'nt 'oo 'fnd 'ut 'ats 'ging 'oo. 'ybee 'eee 'ould 'sk, mrcnray-tyl." = "Honestly, I want to find out what's going on. Maybe we should ask, mercenary-style."_

_Spy:_  
><em>"Mais non, mon ami équivoque, je voudrais bien voir ca imbécile Smith burn, mais I think this is dangerous. We shall investigate more... subtil... how do you say... underhand?" = "But no, my mysterious friend, as much as I'd love to see this idiot burn, but I think this is dangerous..." (French "subtil" is "subtil" in German and "subtle" in English)<em>

_"Mais bien sûr" = "but of course."_

_"Bien, mon ami Soldat." = "Good, my friend Soldier"_

_"Rependre-toi, Scout! Ne t'emporte toi, leve! Tu n'est pas seul, je suis ici. Respires tranquille, avec lenteur... breath slowly, tu me comprends?" = Calm down! Don't lose it, stand up! You are not alone, I'm here. Breathe calmly, slowly. … do you understand me?"_

_"Do not behave comme une vierge" = "don't behave like a virgin."_

_J'aime des hommes fascinant, = I like fascinating people (hommes is "males" and "people/humans")_

_"Je suis désolè, mais you, you are not." = I'm sorry/ I regret, but you are not."_

_Je ne sais pas. = I don't know._

_tu m'approuves, hein? = you agree, don't you?_

_"Chagrin d'amour, it hurts." = "love sickness, it hurts."_

_tes sentiments = your feelings_


	10. Chapter 10

_[author's note] some procedure as every chapter - translations at the bottom [/author's not]_

Snowbowl 10 – Remember

Maybe it was just his imagination, maybe he had developed the ability to feel things he couldn't see. One way or another, Scout felt how all were staring at him, being held by Spy who led him across the room and dropped him on an empty armchair. With a sigh he leaned back, about to get lost in his own thoughts. The words of the Spy were still all to present in his mind, and somehow every answer caused more troubling questions. He didn't like this way of thinking at all, but somehow he knew he had to do this now or it would be too late. Maybe this was part of growing up, too? How did people grow up anyway? Never it had occurred to him that it needed more than just getting older.

Spy looked at the youth's troubled face for a second, and shrugged. He had said the truth, of course it was harsh for a child, but the best he could do for him, even if he pitied the Scout now. The boy had been through some not so nice things the last few days, either these were the making or the breaking of his. The sooner they knew, the better for them all, as individuals and as a team.

He left Scout to his reflections when Medic gave him a sign to come over.

"Herr Spy, vhile you vere vizh zhe Scout, Herr Soldier and I talked some zhings over. He vill discuss zhe strategy of your mission in a minute, I vant to let you know ve decided to do the routine check-ups for everyone as soon as possible." Medic explained. "As ve don't know how long ve vill stay at zhis place, ve might as vell make use of it. I take it you are eager to leave as soon as possible and vould be a troublesome patient right now?"

Spy laughed at this. As most of them he wasn't too eager to deal with the doctor if he didn't have to. But experience, and Spy's behaviour when restless, had taught Medic a lesson or two. Yes, the German was right, when he, Spy, was at the beginning of an investigation it was the best not to stand in his way.

"Bien, mon docteur. I do not mind after ze mission." was his answer.

"Gut. I vait until your return. Ve vill start after you reported zhe results to us. Soldier?" He nodded at the veteran's direction who took over.

"Spy, eat something, and off with you. I don't think I have to say more to you. It is 7pm now, you start at 8pm sharp. I give you the night and tomorrow. Come back around noon, just in case they want to meet us, it will be easier to explain your absence for a few hours than a whole day. I expect your return at 7pm tomorrow. Be careful." The last words lacked the harsh, commanding tone. "Even if this Smith is as stupid as he seems, there still might be other, more dangerous people around. Take care and return if things are getting dicey, okay?"

The French nodded. "Do not worry, mon Soldat. I always take care, I am looking forward to zis. Anyzing else?"

The three of them, Spy, Medic and Soldier, discussed the following steps for a little while longer.

Meanwhile, Engineer had sat down next to the Scout.

"Everything alright, boy?" he kindly asked. "You look troubled."

But Scout only shook his head. "No, it's okay. It's just... Spy said some things... gotta think about them..."

The Texan sighed. "Was it ugly again? If ya need any help, come to me or whoever ya want. That's what grown-ups are there for, ain't we?" At this, Scout couldn't help chuckling.

"Nice way callin' me a kid, right? Hear that a lot lately. Thanks anyway. Don't worry, he wasn't mean, only... honest. Gotta sort this out for maself, okay?"

"Well," Satisfied with this answer for now Engineer stood up again. "I encourage everything that makes ya think at all. Wouldn't mind if ya get used ta it. But before ya brain explodes, don't forget you are not alone, 'kay? But..." he continued, "I hope ya can deal with more honesty t'day. Ya smell like a pack of coyotes. How 'bout takin' a shower, too?"

Scout was about to retort, but stopped himself. Of course the Engineer was right, none of them, expect Spy now, was in his best state.

"Have zhe Pyro help him!" Medic barged into the conversation from the other side of the room. "He vill probably not vant to shower vizh any of us anyway, and as zhe Scout cannot see and needs help..."

"Sounds good." Engineer agreed.

"I don't need help to shower..." Scout protested, but Pyro was already at his side, lifting him by his arm.

"'ower 'lone 'al 'ou 'ant, 'ut 'ill 'ead 'ou 'ere, 'kay?" the man more stated than asked. Scout gave up and let himself being dragged to the bathroom for the second time this evening.

As soon as they had left, Spy rose from his seat. "Ah, I am no good. I forgot my fresh and clean clozes inside..." But Medic pulled him back by his wrist.

"Do not even zhink about it. Respect zhe Pyro's wish for privacy, Schnüffler."

"Eh bien, pincé. Busted." With a disappointed smile Spy sat down again. Well, it was worth a try.

x x x x x

Now he sat again on the very same chair he and Spy had shared just a little while ago. He rejected the Pyro's offer to help him to get undressed. It had been a while when he had been completely out of his uniform, the last time he remembered with a shudder. It had been back at Dustbowl, when Soldier had... convinced... him to take an ice-cold shower. For thirty minutes.

But now the air was still warm and moisture from the shower Spy had taken before. The faint scent of sweat and soap still lingered in the air. He could even still hear the water running...

He gave a little start when he suddenly felt a hand pulling him up again.

"'ome, 'e 'ater 's 'eady. 'ay'dem 'ater." Pyro shoved him under the warm, flowing water. How nice this felt. Scout had never been too interested in spending more time than necessary in a bathroom, however, this was indeed relaxing. Still, something else confused him, when he realized it had been Pyro's bare hand that had touched him.

"Don't tell me ya keepin' on that mask, Pyro." he laughed, his head turned upwards so the water could run over his face.

"'curs 'ot. 'alk t' 'ou 'ater. 'ont 'ake 'ong." The words were followed by the sound of removed rubber and a splatting noise when the mask was thrown onto the wet floor.

"Hu? Whaddya mean with that?" Scout asked, but didn't receive an answer. "Hey, what's wrong with ya?" The only response was Pyro's hand again, when it put a bar of soap into Scout's hands.

"What? Eh, thank you... wait, does that mean you don't speak at all without that stupid thing?" he finally realized.

"Hm."

"Why not? Eh, forget it." Then he laughed. "Kinda like the beginnin' a joke, a blind and a mute are takin' a shower..." His words were answered by a chuckle. What a strange situation, again. Scout thought of Spy's words, how he was even more interested in their Pyro than in him. Not that he felt any improper desires towards the man at all, but Scout had to admit, Pyro was a mysterious, odd but interesting character. He wondered if there was a chance he would ever see this face, too. Probably not any time soon. His team-mate had obviously finished his shower, turned off his water tap and was already busy putting on his garment.

"Ya wearin' that strange bodysuit again? Don't ya have anything else?" he wondered while he soaped his hair. He didn't feel at all like finishing already, instead, he searched for the tap and increased the heat. A grumbling, impatient sound was the reaction to his question but a few seconds later, Pyro spoke again, muffled as ever.

"'s cmf'ortle. 'nd 'afe. 'nd 'o, I 'o 'eak 'iz'ot 'y 'ask smtis. 'ut 'ot t' ev'y'o. 'all I 'elp?"

"Hm." At first, he felt a bit offended, but then he thought that probably most of the others hadn't seen and heard Pyro without the mask, so he tried not to take it against him too personally.

"No, thanks. Gotta enjoy this a bit longer."

"'ky. 'e 'ext c'n 'ssist 'ou, I t'll 'em."

Once Pyro had left the room, the feeling of being lost returned. Scout still hadn't fully understood the layout of the bathroom. He knew in which direction he would probably find the door, to his right there was obviously a second shower unit. The chair he sat on was somewhere between him and the door. But the distance... he trembled when he remembered the first minute, after Engineer had pushed him inside, how he fell down. Panic had risen in him again, the same panic that had come over him when he got lost in the snowy desert a few days ago. For a moment he thought he was back there, all alone, about to die. Then he remembered faintly how somebody had lifted him up. The words he couldn't understand and that didn't reach him at first, the fabric against his cheek, the smell of cold smoke...

The tremble turned into a shiver and he couldn't deny the reaction his body showed at the memory. He moved his hand to the water tap, wanting to decrease the heat to cool himself down before anyone came in, but he couldn't. Instead, he supported himself against the wall with one hand, his free one feeling for his desire. The need was urgent, the last time seemed like years ago, without any privacy and always someone close by it had been impossible to relief himself. Yet he wished he weren't alone right now, but this would never happen, he thought bitterly. He was not wanted. Imagination and reason fought in his mind and body - suddenly he couldn't hold back tears of rage and disappointment and hurt anymore, while he felt his blood pulsate under the skin his fingers were touching right now. Provoked by the fantasy of things that might have been if it weren't for reality. It felt good and bad at the same time, touching himself when he yearned for being touched. His body tensed up, water still running down his body, cold by now, tears mixing with his rushed breathing.

The door opened the very second his back relaxed again and his shoulders sagged.

"Excuse-moi, I forgot my suit. Get out soon, lapin, l'eau est... the water is cold, you are shivering." With a soft laugh, the French was gone again.

"Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot." Scout let himself drop to the ground, ignoring the cold, more tears flowing. "I hate you. I really wish I'd hate you..."

x x x x x

"Idiot. Let me check zhe temperature. You are lucky, dummer Narr." Medic removed his hand from the Scout's forehead. "Vell, at least you have not caught a fever, I zhink. I vill observe. How dämlich... stupid, to stand under a shower with cold water for so long!" Medic certainly was annoyed. This Scout was too careless, none of the others he had to treat that often because of frostbites and chills. Really, by now it was a miracle the boy hadn't come down with pneumonia, or at least a severe cold.

"And you!" he snapped at Sniper, who had just sat down next to them. "Your check-up is not due yet."

"Sorry, Doc." Sniper and Scout answered simultaneously, the Australian in a don't-care-like fashion, the boy rather subdued.

"Ja ja. What's zhe matter, Sniper?" The impatience in his voice made Scout wonder. Had those two been into a fight? He realized he didn't know much about friendships between team members, but as far as he remembered the atmosphere between Sniper and Medic used to be more relaxed. Lately, it seemed to be more aggressive. He decided against asking. First off, it was none of his business. Secondly, he wasn't too eager for another rejection. He pushed his thoughts aside when his name was mentioned.

"Nah, just wond'red 'bout the lad's eyes, mate. Kinda red, eh? Ya gonna check? Here, kid, have a cuppa coffee." he addressed Scout while Medic glared at him.

With a grateful nod, the boy accepted the hot cup and drank.

"Do not tell me how to do my job, Sniper." the German growled. "Besides, zhis is not the time for coffee, it is late. Anyway." he sighed. "I vas about to check his eyes. Look up, Scout." The light of the small lamp flashed into the boy's eyes, being switched on and off several times.

"Do you still see nothing?" he asked.

Scout blinked a few times. "No." he finally said.

"Hm." Medic looked at the eyes again. "Zhey do react to zhe light more zhan yesterday. No change?"

Again, Scout closed his eyes and opened them again. The first day, after he had woken up, there was a piercing pain in his head, leading from the eyes right into his brain. Now that he thought about it, it was gone. He only felt a burning ache, but this probably hadn't anything to do with his blindness...

"They don't hurt anymore." He moved his eyeballs from right to left, blinked again. "It's not bright or dark. Kinda... greyish. I... I think I see something blurry... moving..."

"Sehr gut." Medic put away the lamp. "Very good. Zhe blurry moving zhing was my hand. You seem to adjust to zhe real light again, and you recognize movements. Zhe eyesight returns, but a bit slow. You vill see silhouettes and shadows moving soon. Until zhen," he added, "try not to strain your eyes too much, verstanden?" Satisfied with the boy for now he turned to the Sniper.

"Zufrieden?"

"Gah, ya know I don't understand that rubbish." The Australian grinned innocently.

"Are you happy vizh zhe examination, Herr chief medical superintendent?"

"No worries, Doc, Ya did fine. But got somethin' else. Here, kid, gonna lend these to ya for a while." he said to the Scout, taking one of his hands and put something into it.

"What are... hey, that's ya shades!" the surprised boy exclaimed.

Sniper smiled, he enjoyed the puzzled expressions of both, the Medic and the Scout.

"Yeah. Got a spare from the magical box there. Wear 'em to relax ya eyes. As ya know, them glasses are mirr'red, we won't have to look at ya blank stare. And you..." He put a hand on the Scout's shoulder. "You won't have to show 'em if ya don't want, blind or not, red or not. 'kay?"

"Okay." The Bostonian swallowed as he understood the gesture. "Thanks, man."

"Nah, no dramas. Ya welcome alright. Gotta grab a bite now. Want something?" He stood up as he asked, but the boy shook his head, putting on the shades.

"Rather nice for a dimwitted bush man, eh?" Sniper nudged the Medic's side when he joined him at the table with the served food.

"Vhat do you vant, impress me?" His voice clearly showed he wasn't impressed at all, but it had lost a bit of its aggressiveness.

"Nope, just wanna help a boy keepin' his d'gnity. And showin' ya I'm not the bastard ya treat me like." Checking the snacks in front of him, he settled for a sandwich and more coffee. "Wish they'd steak."

"Vhatever." With another bottle of beer Medic turned away, heading over to Pyro when Sniper held him back.

"Wait, Will." he whispered quickly, so no one could overhear. "When we met back then we got along well, don't ya remember...". But the German brushed his hand aside, giving a snort.

"I remember you did vhatever came into zhis mind of yours even zhen, zhat's all. Gute Nacht."

x x x x x

The night passed peacefully. Spy left the team as told at 8am. 15 minutes earlier Mr. Smith had paid them a visit, asking if they found everything to their liking. Satisfied with the timing the French sneaked through the narrow corridors of the different compartments, cautious to stay hidden in the shadows. Now nobody would notice he was missing from the rest of the group. He listened to the conversation of two members of the rescue troop that had found them only a few hours ago. They talked of nothing of importance, but he focused on the melody of their voices and manners of speaking. Who knew, maybe this would be of use later.

He stifled a yawn. Yes, he loved his job, and this was the first opportunity after months to actually follow his profession, not for love or money he would have considered waiting until the next morning. But now he thought about it, he hadn't had more than two or three hours of sleep at once the last days.

The men had left the wagon. Spy pushed aside his thoughts about rest and sleeping and followed. His night had just begun.

x x x x x

The beds were nothing more than better couches, narrow, not too soft and for the taller or bigger of them a bit too short. Yet, compared to their past alternatives of hard benches, blankets on hard grounds and, of course, no sleep at all, those beds were pure luxury. The retrospect of the recent events, their journey, their rescue, their strange host, kept them awake for long.

With no interruptions and no obvious threat to their lives, this was a calm night. Heavy and Scout, who held the last guard, woke them in the morning and went to their own beds for two more hours of rest.

The early part of the day went uneventful. Around 9am two servants knocked, bringing in breakfast, including three pots of steaming, dark coffee. Medic and Engineer still were tired, their heads heavy with the remains of too much alcohol, so they felt especially grateful for the hot, bitter liquid. Demoman, too, drank more than he used to in the past, regarding caffeine as a weak substitute for hard drinks. He missed his drinking habits, and it was hard, almost impossible to resist when bottles with whiskey, rum, cognac and other fine liquor stood there, just within an arm's reach, in front of him. But he knew he couldn't escape the Medic's sharp eye, and, although he wouldn't admit it aloud, he liked how his mind was clear most of the day and how well his brain worked. In a nutshell, they enjoyed the start of the day, being warm and sated.

Soldier awaited the Spy's report with anticipation, as did everyone else, but for now they made the most of their situation.

Noon passed, and still no sign of the Frenchman. Scout, half his face hidden behind the Sniper's shades, had convinced the Medic to guide him around a bit, not only in their compartment, but also the one connected to it, under the pretence to get used to their surroundings so he wouldn't be too much of a hinderance for them in case the situation turned ugly. Of course Medic knew the real motif, and Scout knew he knew, but as there was no harm to his request, the German helped him to learn more about the build-up of the train. The wagon next to theirs was divided into two separate, almost empty chambers, one only furnished with a table, a few chairs and a white lamp dangling from the ceiling. Probably something like a small conference or break room. The second half of the compartment was filled with their equipment. As soon as they had been found and boarded the train, everyone had taken his weapons, but extra ammunition and most of the medical gear were stored here. Compared to the austere, orderly first part this room was untidy and cluttered, but Medic felt more comfortable here, the atmosphere was very much like his makeshift treatment room back in Dustbowl, but at least it was familiar.

Of course they found no trace of the Spy so they returned to their group after a while. The little stroll wasn't in vain, though, as Scout was confident he would find his way even without a guide now, even if it was only a short distance.

By 1am, Soldier was pacing up and down between chairs and tables, aggravating his team-mates' own impatience only more.

Not only had the Spy not returned yet, they hadn't had any word from their host, but doubted he would leave them alone for the rest of the day. Things would be a lot easier without a man missing.

Heavy, busying himself with cleaning his faithful Natascha, finally had enough of the Soldier's restless behaviour, his deep voice growling when he threatened the veteran to stand still or else... Before a quarrel could arise the door opened, and Spy came in. It was 3pm.

Soldier turned around, barking at the man.

"What took you so long, Frenchie?"

But Spy apologetically lifted his hands.

"Alors, mon Soldier, do not be upset, non? Moi, j'était caught in one wagon by accident, and had to wait for someone to open ze door wizout seeing moi. I apologize. Mais maintenant, let us sit down and I report, d'accord?"

"Alright, alright." The veteran preferred to keep standing, while the others circled around Spy, sitting on chairs or the floor.

"'kay, mate, let's hear ya tale." Sniper demanded as impatiently as everyone else.

"Bien." the Spy nodded. "I stalked Monsieur Smith and most of his subordinates ze last hours. Ah, unfortunately I couldn't overhear anyzing interesting, zey almost did not talk about us at all, and nozing was suspicious. All I can say... zey seem friendly, far too friendly. So, maybe wiz more time... let me go again, Monsieur Soldier, and I will learn more, I am certain..."

"Hm." Soldier wasn't happy with this result at all. Did they expect them to investigate and behaved innocently on purpose? Or was he too paranoid again, seeing ghosts when everything was absolutely alright? Maybe things weren't too good to be true, but simply good and true. But he couldn't get rid of his doubts and suspicions.

He looked at the Engineer's face and was reassured when he saw the same shadows of distrust. Their eyes met for a second, and both nodded.

"I ain't think that's all there's to it." Engineer added, thoughtful. "Somethin's wrong here, just a gut feeling. It's... ta easy... Soldier," he addressed the French. "I agree with Spy's idea, let him check again, as planned."

"Thanks, Engineer. Yes, Spy, go and see if you can find out more. But there is a change in the plan. For now, eat and sleep, and continue this night." Soldier ordered.

"Ah non, too kind, but I am not tired, I will go right away..." Spy was about to leave again, but Soldier gestured him to stay.

"Don't be stupid. You haven't slept more than an hour or two the last few days, under this circumstances the risk of making mistakes is too high. We can't afford to attract their attention. Do as I say, eat and rest."

„I will do as you say, Sir."

Medic watched the Spy as the man drank his coffee. The news bothered him, he, too, had been positive something was wrong. But it was not like the Spy to miss anything suspicious. Either their hosts were smarter than he thought or the French wasn't in top form. It was not like him to get caught somewhere that easily without a plan to escape.

"Spy, you remember zhe original plan, about zhe check-up." he finally said. "Let's do it as soon as possible, before you leave. I vant to make sure you are alright."

"Alors, Monsieur Medic, zis is not necessary. I rest as ze Soldier said and do my job. A few hours of sleep will do. No reason to worry, n'est-ce pas?" Spy smiled reassuringly, but Medic shook his head.

"Ja, rest first, but later I vant to see you, ve can use the second room of the next compartment. Zhis von't take long and ve are on zhe safe side."

"I promise, zis is really not..."

"Listen to him, Spy, he is right." Soldier interrupted. "Take it like a man and be over with it."

"D'accord, Sir." Spy sighed. "Moi, I doubt it has to be, but if you insist..."

"Indeed I do. Be a good boy, don't forget, you are one of the best. No harm in losing an hour or two. But we cannot chance your safety. Doc, he will be your first patient this evening, please check the others, I want everyone to be alright and healthy, we don't need any nasty surprises."

The Medic nodded. "I see to it, Herr Soldier. Maybe ve can even start now?"

But before Soldier could agree or disagree there was a knock. Smith himself entered the room, with a too wide, too friendly smile.

xxxx to be continued xxxxx

_I finished Chapter 11 this night, if my beta has enough time to spellcheck, I'll upload it later._

_Anyway, please understand I'm very tired right now (3,5 hours of sleep aren't that much. Or I'm getting old) -_- I even can't remember which songs I listened to this time. I think "Sebastian" from Steve Harley was on of them. ^^ _

_I want to thank you for your support and praise :) It adds a bit of pressure, yes, but the good kind of pressure, the wanna-improve-for-you-one xD _

_Here are the translation, if I forget something, please ask :) (I wonder, would it be better to put them at the beginning? My suggestion - open a second tab if it's not too much of a bother, so you wouldn't have to scroll all the time. That's what I'd do ^^)_

_Pyro:_

_"'ower 'lone 'al 'ou 'ant, 'ut 'ill 'ead 'ou 'ere, 'kay?" = "Shower alone all you want, but I will lead you there, okay?"_

_ Medic:_

_Schnüffler = Snoop_

_ Pyro:_

_"'ome, 'e 'ater 's 'eady. 'ay'dem 'ater." = "Come, the water is ready. Daydream later."_

_ "'curs 'ot. 'alk t' 'ou 'ater. 'ont 'ake 'ong." = "Course not. Talk to you later. Won't take long."_

_ "'s cmf'ortle. 'nd 'afe. 'nd 'o, I 'o 'eak 'iz'ot 'y 'ask smtis. 'ut 'ot t' ev'y'o. 'all I 'elp?" = "Is comfortable. And safe. And no, I do speak without my mask sometimes. But not to everyone. Shall I help?"_

_ "'ky. 'e 'ext c'n 'ssist 'ou, I t'll 'em." = "Okay. The next can assist you, I tell them."_

_Medic:_

_"dämlich" = stupid/dimwitted _

_"Ja ja." = "ja" is "yes", but said in a situation like this 2x "ja" is used more like "whatever"/"don't give me that shit"/"give me a break" or even "bite me/lma". Or simply "forget about that, go on." In this case – a mix of everything, I think ^^_

_ "verstanden" - understood? Got it?_

_ "Gute Nacht." - Good night._

_ Spy:_

_ "Moi, j'était" = Me, I was..._

_ "Mais maintenant, let us sit down and I report, d'accord?" = "But now, let us sit down and I report, alright?"_


	11. Chapter 11

_[author's note]_

_At first - dear returning reader, today I uploaded two chapters, did you read 10 already? ^^ Otherwise, many things won't make sense ^^ as usual, translations at the bottom [/author's note]_

**Snowbowl 11 – ****Delusions**

More than two hours of trivial matters passed.

Smith prepared another of his omnipresent drinks while talking to them of nothing important. Smith sat down in a free chair, telling them again how lucky everyone was that they found the team. Unthinkable what might have happened if their routes hadn't crossed. Smith, drinking from his glass, never stopping to smile when he explained what an incredible construction this train was, how generous of his client not to care about the expenses as long as the team was safe.

More or less a rehearsal of the speech he had held yesterday, no change in his attitude, no new information. Euphemistic and harmless. He bored them do death.

Demoman chuckled when he saw how Spy almost dozed off and had to be nudged by the nearby sitting Heavy.

Soon they gave up on asking questions, as there never was a satisfying answer. Obviously their host didn't want to explain what exactly had happened to the desert, or why the rescue was so late. They avoided to mention the helicopter and the dead pilot, though. Another subject that proved that there was more to this rescue mission than Smith let on. No excuses, no explanations, no charges. The whole situation was as smooth as their host. And as slippery.

"Oh, by the way, my friends," Smith concluded when he finally was about to leave again. "Maybe you remember, I told you yesterday about the railway. We have to slow down even more. But don't worry, it won't lack on any comfort, I'll see to that. Meanwhile, rest and enjoy yourself." He looked at his watch. "My, that late already! Dinner will be ready soon and served to you. Don't bother with coming to the dining car, dear friends, I know, after all your hardships you deserve to take it easy. Please excuse me now. As enjoyable as our little, cozy chats are, there is work I have to attend to. I will see you tomorrow."

"Enjoyable, my ass." growled Sniper once the door had closed behind their host. "Worse than a fuckin' sleepin' pill."

"Hear himself talk Smith like." Heavy groaned. "Same he said day before. Same tomorrow he do say."

"Aye, lads, lemme tell ye, that goddamned Judas, keepin' us in a bloody golden cage..." Demo ranted.

"Keep your voices down! He could hear you if he were back in Dustbowl." Soldier called them to order, but soon joined them. For a while they discussed, although at a lower volume now, the ridiculous behaviour of that man. All except Spy and Scout.

The boy sat down next to the place where he had heard the French's voice coming from earlier. He hesitated for a moment before he spoke.

"Are ya alright, Frogs, I mean, Spy? Ya kinda quiet, and I... we were worried..."

Opening his eyes lazily, the French looked at the Scout. "Do not worry, Scout, moi, I am fine. Mais Soldier is right, moi is très épuisé... very tired. And j'ai honte... I feel ashamed. Zis is not acceptable, non, it is not..."

"I think I understand... but... it's okay... ya did ya best, right? Sorry I bothered ya, man." Scout answered, a bit helpless, not knowing what were the best words to say to cheer the Spy up.

"Do not apologize, young Scout. Everyzing will be fine. Go, join ze ozers. Moi, I try to sleep." He yawned and closed his eyes again. For a minute or two Scout listened to his even breath.

"'kay. Good luck later."

"Hm... merci, mon ami..." Just an almost unhearable murmur from the already half asleep man.

Dinner was a merry affair this evening. The men beamed with pleasure when they found different kinds of meat on the plates, and more beer. Only Demoman frowned, glancing at Medic from the corner of his good eye. Of course the doctor was watching him, with a similar frown. Demo sighed. Again, no beer or whiskey for him. Cursing the Medic and his own inner demons, he chewed on his steak, flushing it down with water.

After a while Spy joined them. His mood had improved and he joked with Heavy and Sniper while eating some of the vegetables. He raised his glass to Demo. Spy, too, only drank water this time, determined not to weaken his senses, as he explained. Every now and then he felt the Scout staring in his direction. He looked at the blind boy and gave a sigh, but choose to ignore it for now. Instead, he turned to Soldier.

"Alors, mon Soldier, I slept and I ate. I am ready to start zis mission again, oui?" he requested, being restless.

"Yes... No, wait!" the veteran corrected himself. "Nice try, shape-shifting maggot! You try to bitch out from the examination! I understand you cannot wait to begin snooping around again, son. But do as I say anyway."

His voice clearly told Spy that the Soldier wouldn't accept any excuses.

"Do not vorry, Herr Spy. I vill keep it short." Medic rolled his eyes. "You are annoying to deal vizh vhen impatient. I do not intend to deal vizh your restless self longer zhan necessary."

"Bien, Monsieur Medic. Allow me to refresh myself before we start, d'accord?" Spy pushed his chair aside and was about to leave the table.

"Zhank you." Medic nodded. "Pass me zhe bottle of zhe water before you go, bitte. I vill meet you in zhirty minutes in zhe ozher wagon." This would give him enough time to finish his meal and prepare the spare room.

"Good. Mais fais attention!" Spy warned. "We must not trust zis Monsieur Smiz. It might be dangereux, ze waiting alone."

"Oi, I can go, too. Have ma check-up first." Sniper offered, passing the Medic a sly look.

"Sei nicht albern... don't be silly. I have to put my zhings in order, you vill be in zhe vay." Firmly, he rejected the suggestion. "I can take care of myself."

"Doc, ya don't think..." but the Australian's protest was cut short.

"I say you stay here, keine Diskussion. Now shut up!"

"Ladies!" Soldier shouted at them across the table. "Both of you stop that bickering or I have Engineer locking you two up in the bathroom, too!"

Engineer grinned while Scout blushed, Spy only lifted an eyebrow.

"Do not argue, mes amis. I do not wish to share ze shower, so behave-vous, s'il vous plaît!" Spy smiled, amused. "I see you soon, mon ami. But be careful, promis-moi, oui? I do not have... how do you say... a good hunch..."

Demoman chuckled. "Aye, ya dun't hava good feelin' or hava hunch, laddie."

"Ah, zank you, mon ami." Spy laughed and finally left the room.

"Hm, I better get ready, too." Medic sighed. "Zhis Spy is not a very agreeable patient vhen excited. Zhe zooner ve are done, zhe better." So he left as well, through the opposite door.

x x x x x

By now feeling restless himself, Medic rummaged through boxes and shelves, collecting his equipment, choosing carefully what he needed and what not. Some basic blood tests, checking blood pressure, reflexes and maybe, if necessary, injecting a stimulant to sharpen the Spy's senses for a few hours, that should do. He sat down, feeling the first signs of a headache. By the rule he was not a good patient either, so he refused to take a pill against the thumping pain. Instead, he took another sip of water, glad he brought the bottle and his glass along. He searched another box and found his team mates' records. Picking the one for Spy, he sat down again and opened the file.

"Spy. Age unknown. French. Good constitution, mediocre stamina, prone to low blood pressure and migraines as deficiency signs. Heavy smoker, high cancer risk. No handicaps." he read, and closed his eyes, massaging his temples. He himself usually had no problems with his blood pressure and could deal with nutrient removal for a long period, but now he was the one with a migraine. "Too much stress..." he grumbled, when he suddenly felt sick. He jerked back, breathing hard.

"Nein...! Nein, nicht das! Bitte nicht... Das kann nicht sein..." Desperately, he closed his eyes and opened them again. The room changed. Suddenly, the colors were brighter, the opposite wall closer to him than before.

_The shadow emerged from the wall, his face hidden behind a mask, only showing the eyes, shining with madness. The features took shape, a well-known face. But all the young man could do was to stare back at him, petrified by drugs and fear. The doctor's jawline as sharp as the scalpel in his hand. In vain he tried to scream when the blade glided over the skin of his chest. His own blood left a warm, wet trail as it flowed down his sides, a sickening tickle..._

Medic opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, his hand clenching his shirt, an old scar throbbing painfully. He tried to focus, to control his breathing. When he pulled himself up at a shelf, another wave of sickness came over him.

"Wie zum Teufel... Meskalin... wer..."

Another shadow at the wall, tall, slim, wearing a hat.

"No, you didn't... you vouldn't..." he whispered.

_He fell down on his knees, removed the mask from his face and vomited on the floor. "Steh auf!" a voice shouted, and a foot kicked him hard against his back. "Gehorche oder DU bist der Nächste!"_

_Scared and crying, he stood up, his legs shaking. When he saw the widened eyes, filled with panic and pain, he almost threw up again. His hand trembling, he picked up the knife and continued to cut open the child's abdomen._

With a groan he awakened. Cold sweat ran down his forehead, but somehow he managed to crawl on his knees and to grab the shelf again. Supported by the wall, he finally stood up, fighting hard to keep balance. The room had lost its contours, walls, chair, gear, papers – everything was spinning, flashing in the brightest and craziest colors. A screaming pain in his head, but when he tried to cry for help, he couldn't. He coughed and gasped when breathing became harder, and he realized something hindered him to inhale properly.

"Wer..." he croaked. "Nein... no, you are not... Du bist nicht... wer..."

But the only answer was a hard push and his back crashed against the wall. He coughed again, suddenly he could breathe, but then he noticed the shadow coming closer.

_The man whimpered in pain when he put a sharp piece of glass in the open wound, pushing it down until he hit the bone of the leg. He felt pity for the poor guy but there was nothing he could do for him. Nothing but causing such an impact of pain that his victim passed out, finding some mercy in a blackout. He hoped that man wouldn't notice. _

_His own leg was healing slowly. _

"Aaah!" Somehow he had managed to grab his attacker's wrists, but he couldn't loosen the grip. Pushed against a wall, unable to move or escape... another memory, but this, this situation was different. His throat hurt and his lungs were burning and about to burst, but he couldn't remove the fingers from his neck. The colors dancing in front of his eyes slowly lost their vivacity, his mind almost became blank, but then the pressure against his larynx decreased. He dropped on his knees, coughing and panting, his own hand pressed against his throat, tears flowing.

"W...w..oher..." A stale, metallic taste in his mouth almost made him spit out. Blood. The world took shape again for a moment - only to lose it once more, the influence of the hallucinogen still strong. Somebody laughed.

"I know everything, Herr Doktor. Ready to suffer some more? Don't worry, I will not kill you, not now. Only a bit of domination. Something you are familiar with, right? Puppet!"

The Medic squirmed and struggled to sit up, trying to find out who attacked him. But all he could see was the shadow, losing and regaining its form, sometimes resembling nothing but a colorful mass, or lost ghosts from a past he didn't want to remember.

"Here is some medicine for you, Medic. Let's see if you can find out what it is. Too bad you won't be able to tell me anytime soon." the voice mocked him.

Again, he couldn't tell who it might belong to, he wasn't even sure if he knew it at all or if he simply wasn't able to identify it. Suddenly he felt a sting in his upper arm, a needle thrust down deeply into the flesh, the slight pressure of injected liquid, while a hand had slung its fingers around his throat again. Then both hands strangled him one more time.

All he could feel was pain, burning in his arm, his body, more drops of blood ran from his mouth, but every time before he lost his consciousness the shadow allowed him to breathe. For a second he thought the Sniper stood in front of him, but he refused to believe that. This very moment it was a figure from the past again, while a choir of old enemies and friends joined the manic laughter.

He didn't notice any difference after the shot at first, when suddenly his mind went blank and his body got limp, and he slid down the wall to the ground, falling. Helplessly, he coughed again, the laughter still ringing in his ears, and then, everything went black.

x x x x x x

Sleeping. It was a bit cold, yes, but the blue was so calming, it was like flying. No boundaries, no dangers. Alone, a delicious solitude, unmarred by fears and memories. Sad and painful thoughts simply disappeared before they showed themselves. A little taste of eternity, forever flying, forever free. But yes, it really was cold, where was the blanket? And why was his bed so hard?

Fleeing steps. The laughter faded. Footsteps coming closer, a door opened, closed. Opened again.

He tried to lift his eyelids, but couldn't. Then the pain returned.

"Bloody...! Gawd, what happened...Hey, wake up hey! HELP!" a familiar voice shouted. "HELP! SOMEBODY COME HELP!"

His mind dissolved again, when he felt a warm hand touching his cheek.

"Will! Wilhelm! Come on, mate, wake up! Open ya eyes, fuck, answer me... WILL!"

But he had passed out again.

x x x x x x

A squeaking sound, back and forth. Back and forth. A clock? No...

Where was he? An undefinable noise was rushing through his brain, only bit by bit his thoughts could push it back. The muscles in his arms and legs contracted, twitched, but he didn't move them intentionally, he tried, but couldn't.

He swallowed and was surprised how hard this was, how much it hurt.

'Wo bin ich...'

Suddenly everything came back at once. The headache, the swirls of colors, sickness, aching scars, voices and laughter. Suffocating from being almost choked to death.

His eyes opened widely. Otherwise, his body didn't react, although he felt like trembling. But even those reflexes were blocked as if the nervous system had been interrupted somewhere in his spine. Finally his brain started to process the information his visual nerve sent. First, light.

A swinging light, back and forth. Back and forth. He blinked. Above him, a plain lamp swung slightly, caused by the moving train. A gray ceiling.

It took a moment, but then he realized where he was. It was the other room of the wagon next to theirs. Now he noticed his aching back, obviously he was lying on the table or some other longish structure, caught in his own body. He wasn't alone. He knew it.

He tried to move his hand, but no fingertip twitched. From the corner of his eye he saw a shadow standing at the wall. Or didn't he?

He closed his eyes again, trying to focus. The effect of the first drug had worn off, at least most of it, after all, he had experienced those trips often enough to judge. About the injection... his breath calmed as he directed his thoughts on a rational path. The effect happened all of a sudden, just when he had thought nothing was happening at all. Darkness, the light dream, his body unable to move. Definitely an anesthetic. His brain told his muscles to flinch, but failed. Pain. He definitely felt pain. No analgesic, that was certain. Propofol, maybe?

His eyes open again, he saw the shadow moving, hovering over him. He imagined himself shaking his head. If it was the sedative he thought it was, hallucinations were still possible.

The shadow dissolved.

The lamp swung faster, the squeaking sound grew louder and subsided as the train slowed down.

'Bin ich allein? Nein... aber wer...'

This time, he could move his head, only an inch or two, but it was enough to see a figure, probably sitting, head dropped on the chest. Asleep? He stared in this direction a bit longer until the figure took shape. A familiar shape, tall, slim, and always wearing a hat. Faintly he remembered seeing this man in the other room, but was he real then? Was he now? And what, if he really did... if _his _presencehadn't been an illusion...

"Nein..." he groaned, unaware he actually made a sound, albeit almost inaudible. But loud enough to attract the attention of the other man. For a second their eyes met and he fainted.

He woke up again, this time his eyesight recovered faster than before, but still unable to move. The person was gone, only an empty chair.

With a shiver he turned his head to the other side, screaming silently only in his head. Now at the wall to his feet he stood, arms crossed, watching him, his face wearing a serious, stern expression.

"Sniper..." Only a whisper. Fear. Bitterness. Sadness.

Again he tried to speak, but his throat hurt too much. Once more darkness overcame him.

"AH!" His own hoarse, screaming voice brought him back to reality, and with reality came the pain in his arm. The muscle contracted and seemed to burn from the bone all the way over his shoulder and spine, right in his head. His hand twitched, this time because he ordered it to move.

"It's okay."

A voice.

He turned his head once more, now his whole body trembled. The Australian... was it really him? Was he still seeing things?

The man sat next to him, his elbow on the table, at the same level as the Medic's hips.

With his chin resting in his hand, the Sniper watched him closely, an expression in his eyes Medic didn't understand.

"Warst Du... vere you... did you..." the German stammered, desperately trying to lift his arms or legs, to no avail.

"Relax, will ya?" Sniper muttered against his palm. "Ya really think I did...?"

He tried to answer, but only succeeded in coughing violently. His throat, his lungs – they hurt too much. Involuntarily he rolled his eyes, gasping for air, but didn't seem to inhale enough. His ribcage moved up and down far to fast, his back arched - now he was finally suffocating.

"Slowly, mate. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Relax." repeated the voice, anxious and calming. Again the Medic felt how a warm hand touched his face. "Breath slowly, Will, hear me? Slow!"

Just before he passed out again, rough lips touched his own while a hand covered his eyes. The smell of stale coffee filled his nose. Whenever he tried to inhale too abruptly, the other man deepened the kiss, forcing him to reduce the speed of his breath. He groaned again and felt a tongue moving against his. Once his breath became regular again, the hand moved from his eyes to his throat. He flinched at the touch, but the fingers only glided gently over the skin.

Sniper released him from the kiss, sat up again and looked at their Medic, now both angry and worried.

"Left ya with some impressive fingerprints, that crook. Blue 'n purple like a bloody sunset at the beach." he growled, then paused before he continued.

"Never look at me again like I'd do somethin' like this to ya, ya hear me?"

Still not strong enough for a simple nod, the German closed his eyes.

"Tell ya somethin', wanker! Only a bloody fool with no pride'd hunt an almost dead game. I want ya, but I'd not get that low. When we hav'a go at it, ya better goddamned enjoy it, too, got it? Hey, Will! Are ya listenin' ta me? Don't dare ta pass out now! Gaah. Useless." Reluctantly, Sniper drew back his hand from the Medic's throat and went away.

"Ich... I'm... vake... bastard..." Still nothing more but a weak whisper, but now he was slowly regaining his wits.

The Australian stopped at the door and looked at the German thoughtfully, his anger subsiding.

"Good. Gotta call the others. Don't worry, 'kay? We get that asshole for ya."

"Danke, Nicholas..."

"Yeah, don't mention it."

xxx to be continued xxx

_[author's note]_

_Okay. I'm still extremely tired, and tomorrow I'll move, then I have to unpack, to settle in, wait for my i-net-connection... I certainly will be online, but I do not know when I find time to continue. Maybe you'll have to wait until the next weekend or a day or two longer, I'm sorry -_-_

_I strongly recommend the following Nick-Cave-songs:_  
><em>Mercy Seat for the 2nd longer part<em>  
><em>Song of Joy for the last part<em>

_For this chapter, I had researched some stuff. A few of the results I share with you:_  
><em>Mescaline (which was used for experiments around 1940...) .orgwiki/Mescalin_  
><em>Propofol .orgwiki/Propofol_  
><em>(okay, I used the German wiki, but I doubt this will help ^^)<em>

_Well, at least some action here, oh my ^^ I hope it is enjoyable anyway :)  
><em>  
><em>Sorry for all the German, but I just thought it would be strange if he'd think English under these circumstances all the time ^^<em>

_Here they are, the translations:_

_Spy:_

_Merci, mon ami = Danke, mein Freund_

_"Do not argue, mes amis. I do not wish to share ze shower, so behave-vous, s'il vous plaît!" = Do not argue, my friends. …. behave, you two, please!"_

_Medic:_

_"Sei nicht albern" = "Don't be silly."_

_"I say you stay here, keine Diskussion." = "I say you stay here, no discussion!"_

_"Nein...! Nein, nicht das! Bitte nicht... Das kann nicht sein..." = "No...! No, not that! Please, no... this can't be..."_

_"Wie zum Teufel... Meskalin... wer..." = "How on earth... Mescaline... who..."_

_"Steh auf!" = "Stand up!"_

_"Gehorche oder DU bist der Nächste!" = "Obey or you are next!"_

_"W...w..oher..." = where_

_'Wo bin ich...' = 'Where am I?"_

_'Bin ich allein? Nein... aber wer...' = "'Am I alone? No... but who...'_

_"Danke" = "Thanks"_


	12. Chapter 12

_[author's note] the usual – translations at the bottom [/author's note]_

**Snowbowl 12 – Fragments**

Soldier was pacing up and down, and only stopped when he checked his watch.

"Aye, Mother o' Mercy! Could yer just sit down, lad? Ye gonna make me crazy with ye walkin'!" The Demoman hadn't grumbled for the first time within the last two hours at their leader, but as before he was ignored. Both their faces showed signs of anger and worry, and so did their team-mates'.

Another quarrel was about to start, taking turns with absolute silence. They had tried to discuss the recent events, but failed as there were too many questions only the Medic could answer. After all, no one knew what really happened. After they had heard the Sniper's cries for help they had interrupted a rather relaxed leisure time. At once they had come aware that they had let their guard down. Although the Spy had warned them, although they all had been suspicious of Smith and his men from the very beginning the seemingly peaceful, cozy surroundings had tempted them and they hadn't even noticed.

When they had found the Australian next to the unconscious Medic Soldier had ordered them to check the compartments at once, but the search was without any results. Sniper hadn't much to report as well. The corridor was dark, and we he had opened the door to the small room, all he had seen was an unknown figure kneeling beside the German, and once the stranger saw him, he pushed the Sniper out of the way and vanished before he could react at all. Besides, he was too much focused on the Medic.

Now, Sniper looked even more worn out than the others.

"Here, man, have one." Scout handed him a cup with hot, steaming coffee. Surprised, he looked up at the boy. "Thank ya, boy. Got ya eyes back, eh?" But Scout shook his head.

"N... not completely, got better a few hours ago suddenly. Can make out more shapes, yeah, but it's still kinda blurry and too bright. But am not really blind, that's right."

"Why didn't ya tell us?" Sniper wondered, Scout only shrugged.

"Not the best timing, I guess, ain't it?"

Before the Australian could ask more questions, the door opened. Medic was finally able to move again, but he was still weakened, so Pyro supported him when they entered.

"Good you are back!" Heavy more shouted than spoke. "Here, Doctor, have seat." He stood up at once. "Better you are, da? How could this happen?"

"Heavy!" Soldier barked. "Stop yipping like a puppy, leave the man alone." But the Medic smiled faintly. "Zhank you Soldier, it is good. Zhank you for your concern, Heavy. Everyone." He looked at them, troubled. The worried glances directed at him right now didn't escape him, and gave him an impression of what a pathetic sight he must be right now.

Indeed everyone was glad their Medic was back with them and more or less alright, but there was something with his face. He was very pale, his eyes red, but the worst were the shadows that seemed to haunt his expression. Whatever had happened, it was more than a physical attack, that was obvious.

The German sighed. "Did you... could you... find him..?"

"No, I'm sorry, Medic." Soldier shook his head. "We checked three wagons, but when we tried to leave for the fourth, Smith's men stopped us, reassuring us they didn't notice anything strange."

"Well," Engineer added, "We didn't tell them exactly what happened. Just 'bout we thought we saw someone leaving. Had a bad feelin' ta let them know..."

"So Smizh vas not informed? Or called?" Medic threw in.

Again, Soldier shook his head. "No. I'm positive he's behind this anyway. He will come and see us sooner or later, and I'm curious if he has anything to say about it or if he pretends to know nothing. Anyway, Medic, what can you tell us? What happened? Pyro said you probably were drugged and sedated, but he couldn't tell how. Don't blame yaself, boy." he quickly added when he saw how the masked man looked to the floor, his posture telling he felt bad he couldn't help more. "You did your best. After all, you are a Pyro, not a doctor. So?" He turned back to the German, who flinched when he remembered. The memory was bad enough, and he didn't feel like he was ready to talk about it. But he had to.

"Vell... Somehow I drank or ate a hallucinogenic zhat took effect vhile I vas alone, vaiting for Spy. First, I zhought I vas dreaming, vhen I felt zhe pain at my zhroat vas all too real." Unconsciously his hand touched his throat. Dark blue marks covered the skin. "I couldn't see vell, I don't know vho it vas, I'm sorry. He... he said he vouldn't kill me right now, zhen zhere vas zhe sting in my arm, after zhat... I can't remember... until I heard his voice..." He nodded at the Sniper. The man's worried stare unsettled him, and he looked back at Soldier. "Zhen... I passed out again. I'm sorry, I cannot tell you more, I..."

"Nah, it's okay, buddy." Engineer reassured him. "Don't trouble yaself, 'kay? Any idea about the drug, how and when did ya take it?"

Medic shrugged. "I don't know. Most... most drugs like zhat have a strong smell or flavour. I drank vater zhis evening, so I vould have noticed."

"Alors, Monsieur Medic, so it was in ze food, maybe? Moi, I zink we have to ask les questions – did le attacker go after you? Was it.. how you say, personal? Or was he seizing la opportunity to meet you alone?" Spy wondered while fondling with his cigarette case, taking out a cigarette, and putting it back again.

"I have no idea." Medic admitted, though hesitating for a second. He remembered every word the stranger said to him, and he definitely knew about his past, the German was sure about that. But for some reason he was unable to bring himself to tell the others about it. Too many questions would arise, and he didn't want to answer them.

"Spy think good." Now leaning against the wall, the Heavy had listened to the conversation silently so far. "Who in danger is we need to know. Leetle Medic or whole team. Answer to enemy us will lead. Or enemy lead to answer. What first will happen..."

Medic gazed at him thoughtfully. "Aside from zhe 'vhy'... Do ve have any hint vho could be behind zhis? Smizh himself? One of zhe men? He vasn't an amateur, zhis man, he knew vhat he vas doing, and he vas strong..."

The others looked at each other.

"Ye know... thought 'bout it meeself, lad." Demo answered slowly. "Mebbe another assassin, kinda the backstabbin' way like our sneak's here, an' he wasn't here..."

"Ya certainly ain't sayin' it was one of us, Demo?" Engineer interrupted, shocked.

"Alors, certainly moi n'est pas...!"

"Hey hey hey, stop that crap, cyclops!" Scout shouted angrily. "Whaddya talkin' about, before blamin' a team mate, think, god damn! Spy got out through the opposite door, and he was takin' a shower!"

"And ye watched him, blind as a mole ye are, eh, kid?" the Demo snapped back.

The Scout blushed, but didn't yield. "'course not, but heard him, that is, the water... what's ya big idea, moron, he climbed through the drain?"

"Merci, mon Scout, but I'm sure our friend is not serious, 'e is joking. Or do you really suspect moi, Monsieur Demo?" Spy spoke again, while ruffling the boy's hair.

"Gah, of course not, Spah." Demo made an apologizing gesture. "Just loud thinkin', and the lad's defense kinda challenged me. Don't mind me ramblin', 'kay, old boy?"

"Mais oui, apology accepted, Demo. We are all very excited, non? With our Medic almost dead..."

"I wish we could find the bloody asshole." the Sniper suddenly growled, his voice dangerously low.

"We will, mon ami, we will." Finally Spy put the metallic case away and patted the Australian on the shoulder. "How shall we proceed, Monsieur Soldier?"

"With the outmost vigilance! I want everyone to be extremely careful, you got me? No walking around alone, and that's final! I repeat: No. Walking. Around. Alone! Spy, your mission is canceled." Soldier ignored the French's words of protest and continued. "Secure the doors and windows, we check again for bugs, trapdoors, whatever there could be. I don't want another thing like this to happen again. Medic, I know you probably prefer to rest somewhere quiet, but I want you to stay with us. It is too dangerous to have one person guard you alone, and I don't want to separate more men than necessary from the group."

"I do not mind, Herr Soldier. I vill help, but I have one request: I vould like to return to zhe storage room, maybe I can find somezhing helpful." the Medic asked, the idea of sleeping more, or worse, not sleeping and being overrun by more memories was too unpleasant.

The Soldier thought about this for a moment, finally, he agreed. "Alright. Sniper and Pyro will go with you. But you return within 30 Minutes, understood? Do you want to go now?"

x x x x x x

"'at 'uu 'ou 'ope t' 'ind, 'edic?" Pyro looked around. The small room was in disorder, files, bottles, ammunition, small boxes and other items covered the floor, one of the shelves hung lopsided, only held by one nail, on the wall. Pieces of broken glass lay on the ground, some of the papers were sodden by water.

"Somezhing." was the mumbled answer. Medic searched the floor, wishing he were alone, but was also glad he wasn't. He kneeled down and picked up a small item. In his hand he held an empty syringe.

"Vizh zhis he injected zhe anesthetic..."

Sniper looked over the Medic's shoulder. The needle of the syringe had been bent, a sign of the force that had been used to push it into the flesh. His expression grew even grimmer.

"Bloody asshole alright..." he started, but Medic stopped him with a wave of his free hand.

"Zhis von't help." Carefully, he inspected the bottle that still stood on the table. He was surprised it wasn't broken as well. The liquid inside revealed nothing suspicious, the smell was harmless. Water. Yet he didn't dare to test the flavour. Although he was quite certain what had caused the hallucinations he preferred to be careful. Then his eyes spotted something else.

"Vhat is zhis? Zhis does not belong to my equipment!" With a frown he pointed at a small flask that lay innocently between other phials and small bottles. It was the only one with a yellowish label. Sniper picked it up and read the handwritten words out loud.

"With warmest regards from my own laboratory. Don't forget me until we meet again."

Medic tried to suppress a shiver, but failed. Suddenly he felt they were watched all the time. But when he looked around, he couldn't see anything, no little window or crack, no sign of bugs. The door was closed and without a keyhole. He took the little flask from Sniper's hand and opened it.

"Odorless." he stated, and poured a few drops on his hand and rubbed it between his fingers. "Looks and feels like water, but..."

"'aybe t'is is 'se 'pson? 'edic? 'ullo?" Pyro put his hand on the Medic's arm and shook him slightly.

"Vhat? Oh. Sorry. Vhat did you ask?"

"Our little arsonist wonders if this is the drug. Are ya alright?" Sniper snatched the bottle from the German's hands. "Looks like water. Whaddya think, if ya want, I'll try..."

"NEIN! I mean," he added, forcing himself to stay calm when he took the flask back. "I mean no, I do not vant zhat. Zhis little gift from our... friend... if zhis is zhe drug ve better not drink it. Ve do not know about the concentration. Maybe zhis is harmless. Maybe... a few pure drops vill kill you. Let's go back. I feel tired."

They forgot about the flask and any exhaustion when a sudden sound of an explosion made them jump.

x x x x x x x

At once they ran back to their main compartment and opened the door. The other team-members stood there, almost hidden by a cloud of smoke, coughing, exchanging loud exclamations of surprise and anger.

"QUIET! CALM DOWN!" Soldier tried to call them to order.

"Demo, Spy, are ya alright?" both the Scout and Engineer shouted.

"Vhat zhe hell happened?" Medic gasped for air, too, when he ran over to the Demoman who kneeled next to the fireplace, his face covered with blood.

"Aye," the Scotsman coughed. "Me is fine, just some scratches. Open the bloody window!"

Heavy had already loosened the latch and soon fresh air streamed inside.

"Spy, ya okay?" The Sniper walked over to the French who hadn't moved at all the last minute. His hand was close to his face, like he was holding an invisible cigarette.

"Eh... oui, oui. Je suis fine... but how... everything, it happened fast..." the Spy stammered.

Pyro had run to the fireplace and put out the flames before they could set the interior ablaze. "'ome'ing 'xlode 'side 'ere 'nd 'aged 'ven 'e 'tones. Demo?" the short man asked while taking care to extinguish even the faintest spark.

"See, Doc? Nothin' serious." Demo shoved the Medic's hands aside, who nodded. It looked worse than it was, the Demo was lucky, he was only hit by some splinters and sparks, his skin was only hurt on the surface.

"All me knows is I smelled somethin' nice when ol' Spah lightened his coffin nail. Not strong at first, mind ye, but suddenly me realized why me knows the smell. Some of me components me uses fer my explosives smell like this, and before me was thinkin' I snatched that bloody ciggy from his face and threw eet into the fire, next thing happened... well, ye heard it, ain't ye?"

"God damned..." An unusual, bewildered expression fell over the Soldier's features. "Well, this should clear any doubts about Spy's loyalty. And now we know for sure – whoever was after Medic, he's probably after all of us. And he is dangerous. Demo, please have a look at all our ammunition, cigarettes... well, everything that could go boom when ignited or exposed to heat. Everyone, get your weapons ready. And I want to have a word with that Smith..."

"Oh my, oh my, look at this mess, my poor, beautiful spare saloon, how did it suffer..."

Everyone turned around. Smith himself had just entered the room, his smile more fake than usual.

"Dear friends, what could have caused this commotion..."

But Scout didn't let him finish. "Shut up, ya fake! YOU are behind this, stop shittin' us...!"

"Leetle Scout calm down he should." Heavy caught the boy with his large arms before he could attack the smiling man. "Beating him of no use is now. But right the youth is, da. What is answer, Smith?" the big Russian growled.

The man looked aghast. "Why, my friends, what are you talking about? I was just talking to my men about the journey and how we could improve things for you, when I heard this disgusting noise. Here I am, wondering if I could be of any help, and how do you thank me for my concern?"

"Bloody hell, when ya improvements include the attack against our Medic and explosives, keep 'em for yaself..." Sniper glared at him, not believing one word Smith said, none of them did.

"Dear Sniper, be assured, I would never dare to attack my guests of honor, neither with explosives nor drugs, what do you think..." he explained, like he was talking to a sulking child, when Medic interrupted.

"Vhy do you mention zhe drug? Ve did not say anyzhing about it?"

For a second, Smith's smile seemed to disappear, but was returned at once. "Mister Medic, of course my men informed me about your mishap, after all, your friends talked with them when they investigated. But I must say, I am disappointed, why didn't you come to me..."

"Ha! Busted, ya fart!" Scout cried triumphantly, his legs kicking midair, trying to free him from the Heavy's grip. "Engie just told us, he talked to ya men but only asked 'bout someone passing! Ya can't know nothin' 'bout any drug 'n stuff!"

Smith glanced at the Engineer, who, with a wide grin, nodded. It was then when the man's smile disappeared for the first time.

"Oh silly me, did I really say something about drugs? I can't remember, I must grow old. Well," his face showed a whole new expression. His eyes were cold, his lips twitching, like he was about to laugh out loudly, but tried to hold back. "Well, who knows what else I might forget to tell. Or not to tell." He turned around, opening the door again. "So, for your own protection, I better lock the doors, don't you agree? Farewell, my friends, farewell. Who knows when, if, we shall meet again. Oh, and one thing: I assure you, I won't soil my precious hands with your blood. Who might be the culprit? I wish you a good night. Sleep well." With an unexpected swiftness he left the room and shut the door before one of the men could get hold of him.

Sniper jumped at the door, it slid open at once, but the corridor in front of him was empty. Soldier ran past him, followed by the Engineer and Medic. But no one could be found in the second compartment, and when they reached the end, the door was locked from the other side.

x x x x x x

"I don't believe that! That stupid motherfuckin' jerk! Did he really..." the Scout cursed, agitated. Again they had just searched the room for any listening devices while the Demoman and Pyro checked for more explosive surprises. Although they couldn't find anything, they didn't feel satisfied. They just couldn't be sure they hadn't missed something after all. As a result, everyone kept in mind to be very careful with whatever they would do, even when it came to the most trivial actions. Like lighting a cigarette or having a drink.

Especially Sniper and Spy soon grew restless, as they didn't dare to have another smoke. Pyro had had a close look at their tobacco supplies, anyway, the risk was too high. None of them was eager to find out what would happen if something exploded in their face.

"Doctor must drink, tired he looks." Heavy handed him a glass filled with water, but the Medic only starred at it like it was a disgusting insect.

"No, zhank you, Heavy, I am not zhirsty at all..." he refused, but the Russian didn't accept it. "Drink you must, water is safe. Is from bottle I had. See?" Heavy took a sip. Both men waited a moment, and when nothing happened, the German finally gave in.

"Ve have to be careful." he explained after he had emptied the glass at one swallow and told them about the flask they had found. With the explosion and Smith's changed behaviour he had forgotten about their earlier find. "If zhis is vhat I zhink it is, it is dangerous. Zhis causes hallucinations. Usually zhis has a strong, bitter taste and unique smell, but it is very likely zhe attributes have been altered somehow..."

With a skeptical look at the bottle, Spy sighed. "What shall we do, Monsieur Medic? We cannot die of zirst, n'est-ce pas?"

"What about the water from the bathroom? If it was poisoned, we should have noticed it by now, right?" asked the Soldier.

"Yes." the Medic agreed. "Ve should not open new bottles, ve do not know if zhey vere manipulated. Yet ve should try to create a supply of vater..."

Suddenly they became aware of the new situation. They were trapped inside a train, the provisions might be tempered with, and some unknown enemy was after them, for some unknown reason.

"Where's the Engineer?" Soldier suddenly asked. Everyone looked around. The Texan was gone.

"Fuck." the veteran swore. "You wait here!" He turned around on the heel.

"Wait, mate, what's 'bout ya order, not to go alone!" Sniper was about to follow him, but Soldier gestured him to stay.

"You are right, but as I'm going to find this idiot I won't be alone for long. If I do not return after 30 minutes, Pyro and Demo can search for me, otherwise, I want the group to stay behind, together!" He slammed the door behind him when he left.

"Alors, it is ze waiting zen, mes amis." Spy looked at his watch. "Zirty minutes from now."

x x x x x x

"Dell, you old bastard!" Soldier found the Engineer in the storage room where their Medic had been attacked. "What do you think, going here alone? What if...?"

"Calm down, John. Ahm fine. Here," He pointed at the door. "Ah improved the lock, can only be opened with the correct code, without, none can leave or enter. Ingenious, eh?" With a grin he looked up at the Soldier.

"Ingenious, schmenious, god damned, Dell! Eh, wait. Why did you do that?"

"Easy enough. Got our weapons and Medic's stuff in here. Don't want anyone touch anything, that's why. Come on, John, ya not gonna make me do 100 push-ups now, ain't ya? We have ta secure our territory, just like on a battlefield. Can't have everything inside that room over there, and Doc needs a place ta treat the injured when necessary." the Texan implored.

The Soldier wasn't impressed. "I know you are right, and I acknowledge what you do, but heavens, Dell! I told all of you, especially you, not to go alone! Listen closely – I do not want you to be out of my sight as long as we are here. That's an order and you will oblige!"

Engineer stood up, straightening his overall. "Yeah, of course Ah will. And by the way," he smiled at the taller man. "if ah didn't, ya'd follow me anyway, won't ya, John?"

"Don't trick me with your smile. And damn right, I would. But I'd rather have you close from the beginning." With a sigh, he put his arm around the Engineers shoulder and pulled him closer.

"Thank ya, John. And... I'm sorry. We better go back then, right?" He had slung one arm around the Soldier's body, returning the embrace.

"Well." The veteran checked his watch. "Still got 15 minutes. Enough for this." He leaned forward. Of course there wasn't much time, of course the circumstances weren't right. But this was one of the very rare moments of privacy and he wouldn't waste it, even if it was only a kiss. Yes, he would follow his Engineer, right into hell and back, just for his lover's kiss.

Xxxxx to be continued xxxxx

_Translations (not that many today ^^)_

_Pyro:_

"_'at 'uu 'ou 'ope t' 'ind, 'edic?" = "What do you hope to find, Medic?"_

"_'aybe t'is is 'se 'pson? 'edic? 'ullo?" = "Maybe it's the poison? Medic? Hello?"_

"_'ome'ing 'xlode 'side 'ere 'nd 'aged 'ven 'e 'tones. Demo?" = "Something exploded inside here and damaged even the stones."_

_Sorry for the delay, I was kinda busy this week ^^  
>Half of 13 is already done, I hope I can finish it until Monday or Tuesday (unfortunately there are some events like birthdays and such this weekend. Stoopid real life *g*). <em>

_Too much fluff at the end? There's a reason for everything, I'll explain, maybe, when 13 is finished (I hope this will be done until Wednesday ^^)_


	13. Chapter 13

_[author's note ]The perfect song for the first half of this chapter: "Do you love me 2" by Nick Cave (youtube ID: jPfL0zvr1l8 ) Oh, and translations, as usual, at the bottom. [/author's note]_

**Snowbowl 13 – Assaults**

Later that night the voices finally subsided. After the excitement and shocks of the day, all of them were exhausted.

Just when Pyro and Demo had entered the dark corridor, they ran into Soldier and Engineer, both looking relaxed, everything was fine, nothing to worry about right now. The two Americans told the others about the new device at the storage room's door and about the numerical code. This gave them a feeling of security, so they had an area that nobody could enter but them. Despite its smallness. A quick discussion followed, Soldier emphasized again how important it was not to leave the group alone, any further ignorance of this order he would not tolerate. Otherwise, they quickly adjusted to the situation. They were aware of the lurking danger, albeit unknown, but they wouldn't be caught unprepared anymore. Another plan about guarding in shifts was made soon. With their weapons ready beside them, knowing reliable mercenaries were guarding their sleep, there was not much to worry about right now, and it was of no use to push their limits. Without doubt, all their strength and wit would be needed for whatever might happen, so resting was indispensable. Yes, all of them would have loved to attack right away, to solve this mystery, crushing whoever threatened them. But of course, they were experienced men, not headless chickens. All of them knew of the value of a solid strategy, and how important it was not to waste any stamina before the actual battle started. Sometimes rushing into an attack worked, though, but this time they would most likely run right into an ambush. Save strength, guard your team-mates' backs, lure the enemy out of his whereabouts, watch if he makes any mistakes.

"How are ze eyes, Scout?"

Spy and the boy shared the first shift. It had to be admitted, none of them was known for physical power, but both had their way with darkness by now. Scout was eager to be finally of any use, and the Frenchman declared he wouldn't be able to sleep anytime soon anyway, still shaken by the attack that would have killed him if it weren't for the Demo's sharp nose.

"Better, thank ya. Can see more than flickerin' shadows now, 'n even some colors. Well," he laughed. "I could if there was any light."

About an hour had passed and those were the first words they spoke. Scout didn't know what to say, and Spy had chosen to observe the boy's behaviour, but the silence bored him. Here, in the darkness, hidden in a corner that divided both rooms of the second compartment, the Scout's affection for him was more interesting than staring against a black wall. As long as the door to the third wagon was locked and as long as the Soldier didn't decide to take some action nothing would happen this night.

So it was just sitting around or dealing with the teen next to him. He took his cigarette case out of the inner pocket of his suit, picked one and soon inhaled the smoke. Scout coughed.

"Ya have to smoke now?" the boy complained.

"You want one?" Spy offered. "Do not worry, mon ami, zey are save. Ze Demo checked."

"Nah, thanks. Stopped when I was 15."

"A very wise decision, non?" Spy put away the case. The cocky yet hesitant tone in the boy's voice was inspiring. Suddenly he knew how to make the following hour more interesting. He took a last pull from the cigarette and ground it on the floor. "Ah, moi, je suis an idiot. I forgot, I wanted to zank you."

"Eh? What for?"

"Ze Demo, when he accused moi, you defended me. Merci beaucoup for your trust, mon Scout." his voice unusual warm and amiable.

"Don't mention it." The boy was glad about the darkness, so the Spy couldn't see how he blushed. "He wasn't serious after all. No big deal."

"Oh, I zink it is. Maybe zere is somezing I can do for you, mon ami jeune."

"Hey, whaddya doing?" the Scout exclaimed, surprised, when he felt a hand touching his neck, and slim fingers running through his hair.

"Chut! Hush, Scout, zis is just pour toi, not for ze ozers." He pulled the boy closer, his free arm around his waist, and searched for his lips.

Taken by surprise, the Scout's first impulse was to push the man back, but when he smelled the familiar smoky air, when a tongue found its way into his mouth, he just held still and let it happen. The situation was strange, his instinct told him this wasn't the right time, but he brushed the doubts away. Wasn't that what he had wanted, for so long?

"Come on, Scout, zis is not your first kiss ever, is it?" the hoarse voice teased him. Of course not. Okay, it was, with a man. But was it that different? It felt different, but... Too much thinking. Slightly trembling, he kissed back, though shyly, when his whole body responded in a most unambiguous way. He blushed even more, his face feeling hot, and he tried to move away so the Spy wouldn't notice, but too late.

The French withdrew his tongue, chuckling. "Alors, you really like me, young Scout. You like zat, too?" Now nibbling at the boy's lower lip, his hand moved from Scout's waist, deeper, until he touched the treacherous bulge. With a groan, the Scout leaned into the touch, his knees shaking.

"Quel garcon dégueulasse." Spy laughed. "You want me, don't you?" With one quick, skilled move he unbuttoned the boy's pants, found his way right to the source of his arousal, and closed his hand around it. Scout gasped, and tried to move away, but the sudden motion only added to the effect. The French didn't loosen his grip.

"Ah ah ah, no second zoughts, mon ami. We just started, non?" The boy's frank reaction to his touches was exciting after all. Spy pressed his own body against the Scout's and pushed him into the corner. "See, zere is no way to escape. Are you afraid of me?" With his free hand he had lifted Scout's chin, licking over the boy's lips while he spoke.

"Of... of course not! I'm not some virgin girl!" Scout answered, and hoped he sounded more convinced than he felt. No, he wasn't scared, not at all. He wanted more, yes. But it happened so sudden, he still heard the words of the Spy in his head, from their conversation in the bathroom. That, and the attacks against his team-mates and... he didn't know. It... just seemed to happen so fast, too fast. Before he could say anything more, Spy had taken his hand and guided it to the trousers of his suit.

"Eh bien, let me join ze fun, right? Come, you know how to touch a man, non?" Again this mocking voice, Scout's fingers trembled when he tried to open the pants. It took a moment until he succeeded. The trembling increased when he accidentally touched the Spy's skin.

"Well done, now move a bit down wiz zat hands. Good boy." the French groaned. "See, I know you can do zat, ah, not zat fast." He shoved the smaller hands aside, pressing once more against the teen's body, so that their skins could touch. The shivers his actions obviously caused were delicious.

He wondered how far the Scout would go.

"Scout, do you love me, mon ami?" he whispered into the boy's ear, gently biting his earlobe, while he removed his gloves behind the boy's back.

"Don't ask me st...stuff like.. that..."

"Mais oui, I will accept zat as a 'yes'. Show me you love me, will you?" His long, bare fingers now slid along the Scout's sensitive, hot skin between their bodies. Satisfied with the groan this caused, Spy kissed him again.

"Show me zat sweet love of yours, will you? Or I stop right now." he repeated, a hint of impatience adding to the excitement in his voice.

Scout nodded. "How?"

Spy smiled an unseen smile. "Turn around." he ordered gently, trying to push the smaller man by his shoulders.

"W..wait.. I... why?" Scout winced, and tried again to pull back, but the wall stopped him. Way too fast.

"Do it pour moi – for me, mon petit Scout." His smile widened. "Je le sais – I know it, you want it, too, don't you?" He let go of the boy's shoulders and gently stroke his face, trying to reassure him. "Such soft skin... s'il te plaît, moi, je veux de faire l'amour avec toi. Do not hesitate. Do you love me?" he asked again. Shivering at those words, whose meaning he understood, Scout nodded. He turned his back to the Spy, his face now to the wall,.

"Ah, what a good boy you are. You will not, how do zey say... regret."

No, he wouldn't regret it. Why should he? This was the most common thing in this world, why should he be scared? He wasn't scared. Of course he wanted it, too. Violently he bit his lip when he felt how a finger entered his body, his hands, clenched to fists, pressed against the cold metal in front of him.

"No, too fast... Ah!" He cried out when a second finger followed, while the Spy's other hand still made sure the sensation of arousal did not decrease.

"Shh, stay quiet, mon amour. If I don't do zat, I will hurt you, you don't want that, n'est-ce pas?" Spy's lips were close to the Scout's ear again, whispering soothing words while he used a third finger. "Ah, how you like it. See?" The French had to hold back himself now, feeling how his own desire grew.

"I.. don't know... wait, I can't... I..." Another shiver tingled down the boy's spine. When he tried to move closer to the wall he thrust into the Spy's hand around him, if he tried to pull back from that hand, he allowed the other hand in deeper. Too many different, unknown sensations threatened his mind to collapse.

"Come on. Let go. It's okay." a voice raw with desire panted next to his face, and Scout obeyed. His back arched and he bit his tongue to hold back a scream while he felt himself pulsating and hot, sticky liquid covered his skin and the Spy's hand.

"I'm... Jean... I'm sorry..." he croaked, his knees ready to give in.

"Don't be, mon Scout, don't be. Ah, do not go down, we are not done yet." Removing his hand from the boy's body, he pushed him against the wall, so the teen couldn't move away. He released Scout from his other hand, now sliding inside with the wetted fingers, only to pull them back again right away.

"What..." the teen tried to ask, still dizzy.

"Do not forget, you want to show me zat you love moi, non?" Gripping the hips of the Scout with both hands, he thrusted in with one quick, rough move. The Spy groaned. "So tight..."

Then he pushed in again, and again, the squirming body around his own only excited him more, not even noticing the boy's struggle not to scream out as Scout felt like his body was torn apart.

Painful. Pain. Pain. But he had wanted him so much for so long, admired him, tried to catch his attention and now he had it, had more, had the Spy's body in his own. No, he wasn't a silly virgin. He blinked back the tears and suddenly moaned again when the French entered even deeper, touching a most sensitive spot Scout didn't know that existed.

Still, this seemed to last hours, but the truth was, the Spy couldn't hold back any longer. With a final, almost grim outcry he collapsed on the Scout's bended back, and breathed heavily as he recollected his senses. Finally he let go of the teen, searching his jacket for a handkerchief to wipe himself clean. Worn out, Scout slid to the ground, kneeling silently on the floor, unable to think.

"Well done, mon Scout. Je suis... I mean, I am very proud of you." He sounded tired. A look at his watch told him it was about time.

"Do get up soon, ze Heavy and ze Sniper will come in a few minutes. You do not want zem to see you like zis, non?"

Scout shook his head and tried to stand up. A wet feeling ran down the insides of his legs but he put his pants back on anyway, not having any tissue at hand. So he finally got what he desired. Somehow, he didn't really feel happy about it. "Too fast..." he mumbled.

"Qoui? I did not understand? Speak up." Spy had sat down on the floor, stretching his legs comfortably.

"Never mind. Jean-Luc... I mean... Spy" he corrected himself when he saw the expression on the Spy's face the moment the lighter flickered.

'Great.' he thought. 'Should have known earlier that havin' me screwed'd heal my eyes...'

"What is zis worried look, mon Scout? Didn't we have fun, like ze adults do, not like little teenage girls? Come, sit down." the French invited him lazily. "We do have a few minutes."

Scout hesitated, but then sat down next to him, flinching when he moved as a sudden pain reminded him of what they just had done. "You... did never say my name. And your mask... I... can I see your face, just once..."

"Ah, zis troubles you, Scout? Do not worry. I will say ze name of yours, but not now. And my mask... zis mystère, it is plus... more... delicious, is it not? Come here." Before the Scout could say anything else, Spy moved closer and kissed him again, without passion, but enough kindness to soothe and silence a confused youth's mind.

x x x x x x

"Just great, back to tinned muck 'gain..." Without much enthusiasm Sniper speared a red bean with his fork, staring at it accusingly.

"Dun't blame that poor thing, it's not that bean's fault." Engineer was in a better mood than the Australian. "'sides, already spoiled, Snipes? It's not like we got here weeks ago."

"Whatever. Ugh!" He rammed the fork into the tin and put it away. "Could at least cook that stuff."

"Heard Soldier's order. No open fire for now."

"Oh je, aren't ve sensitive zhis morning." Medic joined the conversation with a mocking smile. "Vhat's vizh your stories about camping in zhe vilderness vhen hunting? Does our Sniper grow old and soft?"

"Shuddup, won't have this crap from a guy who's 'fraid of water." he grumbled.

"Is your offer to test zhe unknown liquid still valid?"

"As long as they banter everything's fine." Engineer had left the two with their argument and joined Soldier. "Ah wanna go back to the supplies, and build up some defensive devices. Ya okay with that?" Soldier nodded. "Want me to come with you?"

Engineer grinned, but shook his head. "Nah, want ta get it done fast enough."

At this, the American lifted an eyebrow, but ignored the implied meaning of that remark.

"Fine, Demo will go with you. No, forget it!" he answered the Engineer's glance. "You do not go alone. I want Pyro here, forget of those fools over there," he pointed at the still arguing Medic and Sniper, "Spy won't be of much help, and the kid's still half asleep anyway. Demo!" he called, "Join Engineer and make sure his construction doesn't blow us to smithereens."

"Aye, me wanted to go through some of them crates anyway. Medic, want me to check ye stuff?" the Scot asked.

"Ja ja. Just don't break anyzhing. And if you zhink I'd..." The Medic had turned to Sniper again.

"Let's go, son, leave 'em ta their quarrel."

Soldier looked at their backs while they were leaving, then he spotted the Spy.

"What are you up to, Frenchie? Using up the hot water again?"

The Spy stopped on his way to the bathroom door and smiled at the Soldier.

"Eh bien, some, ah, let me say 'private business' I don't wish to have company for, mon Soldier. Moi, I wouldn't mi nd a hot shower after zhat, now you say it, you wish to join me zen?"

"Bah, no thank you. Guess we can bend the 2-men-rule when it comes to the sanitary facilities. 20 Minutes are enough?"

"More zen enough, mon ami. Zank you."

Now only six more men were left and the veteran wondered what else could be done while Engineer was busy setting up his guns. The evening before he had decided the waiting strategy might be the best for now, but now he doubted that was a wise decision. His men would grow restless soon, and so would he, he hated to be passive. Breaking out of their prison shouldn't be too complicated if they really tried. Smith's behaviour was a declaration of war, so why not having an attack plan in store as well? He sat down with Heavy at one of the tables, and both discussed their options, valid equipment and how they could make the most use of it.

Pyro was busy again with his flamethrower. The battered weapon was, after all, still in a good shape, thanks to the constant care of its wielder. Affectionately Pyro tightened the screws where the tube joined the gasoline tank, cleaned the conductions and finally, gave it a test run. He smiled under his mask when the small flame ignited the candle in front of him. For a second he wondered if he should disobey Soldier's order about open fire and offer Sniper to heat up the canned food, but decided against it. The Australian and the German seemed to enjoy their quarrel too much, he didn't want to interrupt them. A movement caught his eye.

Scout had finally got up from his makeshift bed.

When the boy and Spy had returned from their shift, Pyro had been awake. Somehow, he sensed something was wrong with their Scout, something else beside his troubles with the eyes and his position in the team, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He never had a very friendly relation to the teen, who often teased him about his mask and withdrawn attitude, and Pyro himself thought the boy too bratty and single-minded to deal with.

When he watched the Scout now, how he sat up, his face frozen and the eyes sad, looking at the closed bathroom door, Pyro put two and two together. And Scout was human, after all, though sometimes annoying, and Pyro felt pity for him. Now he thought about it, Scout was the only one who still remained without a friendly realtionship.

"'re 'ou 'rite, 'cout? 'ou 'ook 'tr'bed." Pyro finally asked. Scout looked at him in surprise. Usually, the pyrotechnic ignored him whenever he could.

"Nah, I'm okay... just tired..." He stretched, trying to smile but knew he failed.

"'eah, 'rite, 's I c'n s'e. 'ou 'ow, s'mti'es t' 'alk 'elps."

Scout giggled. "Thanks, man, but talkin' to ya isn't easy and why should ya suddenly care, eh? Why should anyone care, it's just me, the freakin' annoying brat, remember?" All of a sudden, he started to laugh, loud enough to make the others turn at their direction, but they focused on their business again right away when the Scout put on a faked grin.

Pyro hesitated, he didn't like the bitterness in his team-mate's voice. Yes, true, he wasn't very fond Scout actually, but he was sorry for him, suddenly realizing how alone and shut out he must feel. Another feeling he only knew too well.

"'ol'ier! 'ave 'ee l'ked 't t'e 'mall 'on'rence 'roo 'ince 'est'ay? 'ould I 'nd 'out 'o?" Pyro called across the room. The veteran interrupted his discussion with Heavy again, frowned and gave a nod. "Yeah, go and make yourselves useful. Be back in 20 minutes, if you find something, report asap! Where was I..."

"'kay, c'm, 'out." Pyro shouldered his flamethrower, grabbed Scout by his arm and went for the door.

"HEY! No fire! That thing stays..." Soldier shouted after him, but he pretended not to hear.

"Whoa, what the fuck... geez, Pyro..." Scout protested once they had left the compartment, and rubbed his arm. "I kinda get used to bein' dragged around, and I dun't think I like that..."

"S'rry. S't 'own." Pyro pointed at one of the chairs, and when the boy followed his order, he sat down himself, with the back to the Scout.

"Okay, Pyro, what is this fuck 'bout...?" he asked and turned his head back to the wall in front of him, when the other man snarled at him.

"'ont 'urn 'round! 'll r've t'e 'sk. N' q'st'ns, g't it?"

Scout tensed when he heard how the piece of rubber was removed. His curiosity increased the longer the silence lasted and he thought he understood a thing or two when Pyro finally started to talk. Somehow, these last days he was prone to unusual, confusing situations.

"D... don't laugh a.. at me, S..scout. D..don't t..t..turn around!" he repeated firmly, and Scout, hearing how the other man drummed nervously on the metal surface of the flamethrower, decided to better keep control over his curiosity. He noticed that the voice didn't sound much older than his own. Strange how after almost three years he didn't know anything about the Pyro, not even his age.

"I won't. Why... this sudden... revelation? To me of all people?"

"I... I pity y..you. W...won't t..talk, right? M..maybe e..easier w..when I t...trust f..first..." Pyro wasn't sure if his idea was that great after all.

Scout thought about this. Somehow the idea to have somebody to confine to didn't seem too bad. But he wasn't sure he wanted to talk about what happened. He shivered when he remembered. The touches. The kiss. How it was to touch another man _that way..._ the heat... and finally... pain...

"I just wanted... I don't know, him to say he likes me... but..." he whispered.

"I... I u..underst..stand..." Pyro sighed. Scout turned his head but stopped the movement before he could actually see him.

"You have done that with a guy, too?" he asked in amazement, but now Pyro was surprised.

"D..done WHAT? He.. y...you t..two did... w..when?"

Scout blushed, he had forgotten to choose his words carefully and now he had said more than he intended to. That was terrible, and of course Pyro made the correct conclusions.

"Forget it, okay, just forget it, I don't want to talk about it, it's just... when ya said ya understand I kinda... forget I ever said something, okay?" he implored, hectically, his voice cracking.

"O..okay, d..don't w..worry, I... I w...won't ask.. it's j...just... I k..kind of r..realized y..you are... un..unhappy, h... heartbr..broken... t..that's w..what I m..meant..."

"Lovesick, ya mean?" Scout grinned, not too happy. "Ya too, eh? Who's it? Medic?" he inquired, feeling bold. It was nice to talk to another guy, he hadn't realized how much he missed his old friends. Pyro was a mystery, and now he had more questions about him than before, but he was obviously alright.

"W..why d..do you th..think th..that?" Pyro stammered, both amused and annoyed.

"Well, you two hang around a lot..."

"N...no.. I m..mean, yeah... b..but it's n..not l...like th..that..." Pyro quickly explained. "H..he h..helped me a.. a l..lot o..once... t..teaches m..me b...bout m..medicine... I... I r..respect a..and ad..admire him.. b..but..." He sighed. "O..old st..story... di..different...b..but p..painful.. p..point is... it's n..not g..good, w..wrong if.. … s..someth..thing happens a...and y..you are st..still un..unhappy. He kn..knows th..that y..you...?"

Scout understood and nodded, but as Pyro couldn't see it with his back turned to his, he added: "Yes. He guessed it when Engie locked us in... told me he didn't... even like me."

Pyro thought about this for a moment. He didn't like that at all, something was out of place here. It was no secret, Spy was a rake, was even proud of it, but this...

"S..Scout... y..you sh..shouldn't... if th..this is tr..true... he's a..an a..and a..buses... y..you.."

But Scout interrupted him sharply.

"He is not an asshole and this is none of your business!" he snapped, the more aggressive as inwardly he knew... but no, what did this masked freak know? He hadn't been there, he had no idea, he was wrong, had to be wrong!

A loud rattling noise followed by a even louder bang and shouts ended their conversation. They sprung from their seats, rushing to the door.

"This is getting' old..." Scout growled, then he realized Pyro hadn't put on his mask, the rubbery thing still lay on the chair. Scout snatched it and called out, turning his face away when Pyro looked back at him. "Ya forgot something..." He suppressed a shudder. Most of the smaller man's head was covered with dark, curly hair, but the left side and the throat were overrun with thick, widespread scars. It hurt to only look at it.

"'ank 'ou... 'ou 'rnt 'at 'ad."

x x x x x x x

In the corridor, they ran into Demo who supported a blood-covered Engineer.

"What the fuck happened? Another explosion?" Scout cried out. Behind them he heard the footsteps of the other team-mates.

"Engineer! God...! Are you alright, what happened?" Soldier pushed Scout and Pyro aside, hurrying to the injured Texan.

"Let me zhrough, Soldier, I vill have a look." Medic, too, ran past the boys and shoved Soldier away.

"Vhat happened? Zhose are... bullets?" he asked as well.

Engineer showed a crooked smile.

"Nah, ah'm fine, pardner. Just the shoulder, nuthin' dangerous, just lotsa blood."

"Zhat's for me to decide, but I zhink you are right." With a small tissue he wiped the blood away, more smearing it over the torn up shirt and skin, but removed enough to gain a good sight on the wounds. "Is anyzhing left from zhe room or did you blow it up?"

Demo shook his head.

"Nah, the room's arright, justa bit, eh, untidy." he smiled sheepishly when the Medic gave him an annoyed glance. "Me and Engineer here, we was almost finished with the toy when it suddenly got startin' to attack..."

Seven pairs of eyes stared at him.

"Eh, Monsieur Demo, did zat zing explode, as yesterday?" Spah wondered, disbelievingly.

"Naye, laddie, that bloody thing suddenly was pointin' at ol' Engie here, startin' to shoot!"

"But how..? And the explosion?" Soldier demanded.

"Uhm, well... " Now Demo looked guilty. "When it fired, me took a Sticky and, well, threw it at that thing... Just a small one, mind ye!" he assured them.

"Don't look at him like that, fellas, was the darn best thing he could do." Engineer interjected. "Me and him might be dead if he hadn't blown it up... gotta call us lucky it was just a small sentry..."

By now they had returned to the storage room. All papers and items that had been put back in order after the attack against the Medic were tossed around again and black smut covered the wall. Medic cursed and searched for the necessary supplies he needed to treat the Engineer's injuries.

"How could this happen anyway, Engineer?" Soldier asked. "Your Sentries usually don't fire at us."

"Dunno. Ouch!" The Texan flinched when Medic removed a bullet from one wound.

"I am sorry, Engineer. Do you vant a local anesthesia?" Medic offered, without taking the eyes from his task. "Zhis vill hurt more vhen I disinfect and close the wounds..."

"Nope, it's fine, thank ya, Doc. Anyway," he continued. "Ya know, hm, what's the easiest way to explain... there's a device with info 'bout us, the motion detector matches this data with the data it receives when somebody's in reach... works perfectly within seconds... usually... "

"Hm." Sniper looked at the metallic debris lying on the floor. "Guess yer didn't change that, right? So somebody else... our buddy is up to his tricks again..."

"Poisoned Medic, manipulate Spy's cigarettes he did... and now," Heavy's eyes danced dangerously. Whoever their enemy was, he better stayed out of the Russian's reach. "Now Engineer attacked by own toy he was. Man is dangerous. Man knows what doing. Our skills and habits against us he uses..."

They looked at each other uncomfortably. Of course they had guessed this was the pattern the moment Spy's cigarette exploded, especially since there were no signs of more poisoned food or manipulated explosives after the individual attacks.

"Patch Engineer up, you hear me, Medic?" Soldier growled, one hand on Engineer's good shoulder. "Once you are done, I expect you all in the compartment. Time to strike back."

xxxxxx to be continued xxxxx

_Another chapter :D This one was fun *lightenscigarillo*_

_Although... having Pyro talk sure is exhausting._  
><em>I focus too much on Spah and Scout, don't I? This will change, don't worry, fellow MedicSniper-fans!_

_Well, have a scene with consensual sex. The very source of guaranteed happiness, we are realistic thinking people after all, aren't we? Ah, the best quote ever: it's so much easier to be evil :)_

„_mon ami jeune" - „my young friend."_

_Chut = psst!_

_Pour toi = for you_

"_Quel garcon __dégueulasse." = „what a naughty boy!"_

_mon petit = my little..._

_Je le sais... = I know_

_s'il te plaît, moi, je veux faire l'amour avec toi. = if even Scout doesn't need a translation for the most cheesy line ever you don't need one as well, right? xD_

_Pyro:_

"_'re 'ou 'rite, 'cout? 'ou 'ook 'tr'bed." = "Are you alright, Scout? You look troubled."_

"_'eah, 'rite, 's I c'n s'e. 'ou 'ow, s'mti'es t' 'alk 'elps." = "Yeah, right, as I can see. You know, sometimes to talk helps."_

"_'ol'ier! 'ave 'ee l'ked 't t'e 'mall 'on'rence 'roo 'ince 'est'ay? 'ould I 'nd 'out 'o?" = "Soldier! Have we looked at the small conference room since yesterday? Should I and Scout go?"_

"_'kay, c'm, 'out." = "Okay, Come, Scout."_

"_S'rry. S't 'own." = "Sorry. Sit down."_

"_'ont 'urn 'round! 'll r've t'e 'sk. N' q'st'ns, g't it?" = "Don't turn around! I'll remove the mask. No questions, got it?"_

"_'ank 'ou... 'ou 'rnt 'at 'ad." = "Thanks Scout, you aren't that bad."_


	14. Chapter 14

_[author's note] translations at the bottom. I'm a bit in a hurry, if I forgot something, please tell me, I'll add it around Tuesday ^^ [/author's note]_

**Snowbowl 14 – ****Be prepared**

"Well, well, well. Good to see you, Wagner. I wished to have a word with you."

Wagner closed the door behind him, staring at the man sitting behind the desk. Although his face showed an oddly satisfied grin, the contempt in his eyes he couldn't hide.

"What do you want, Smith? I'm busy." Wagner walked up to the table, not even trying to ban the impatience from his voice. This sickening smile, present as usual in Smith's face, aggravated him, how much did he wish to simply punch his superior's face until nothing was left than a bloody mess. Somehow it wouldn't have surprised him if the smile remained anyway, would probably still be there when this idiot's body had been burnt to nothing but ashes.

"Wagner, my faithful, loyal servant. Don't think I don't appreciate your efforts, but... I can't seem to find any results." Smith stated, his voice sweet. His visitor raised his eyebrows.

"Mr. Smith, I don't know what you are talking about, everything is according to plan, even more so, I really don't know..." But Smith interrupted him, his fist suddenly hitting hard on the desk, causing several half-molten ice cubes to clink against the otherwise empty glass.

"They are still alive, Wagner! If everything is according to plan, how can it be that there isn't a dead body yet?" he almost shouted, turning his smiling face into an obscure grimace.

Wagner shook his head disbelievingly. "Sir, it's a test of skills! If it were only about killing them, we could have done so before we picked them up like lost tourists." His own anger level rising, he took a step back, glaring at Smith with unshielded disgust. "This is MY game! How should we ever compare..."

"This is not YOUR game! This is your job, and you do what I tell you, understood, Wagner? I won't allow anymore shenanigans, finish your job, and that's it!"

"Sir, listen to me, please! Forgive me my insolence, but there's something important we have to take into account!" Faking meekness, Wagner slightly bowed, his voice low, suddenly nothing but a devoted subordinate.

"That's more like it. You know, I've been doubting your loyalty recently, you seem to become rather rebellious. Don't forget your place, Wagner! I am the boss. You," he snorted, "you are nothing but a tool. Go on, amuse me."

"Too kind, Sir, too kind. Please, Sir, remember your dear aunt, who loves her only nephew so much, remember how much money she invested into this project. The money all the other investors put into this! They wouldn't be satisfied if we had killed them at day 1, wouldn't they think all their financial expenditures were wasted? If it only takes a few bullets or a bit of poison? Wouldn't they feel scammed, victims of fraud, if the report was that short? Imagine, who would they blame! Your poor aunt! What if she loses her position, what would happen to the company... what would happen to you? If I don't live up to their expectations, what would happen to all of us? Please, Mr. Smith, only a bit more time, maybe three days, this should be enough to satisfy them..." Oh, it was so easy. Just feed this idiot with the words he wants to hear, make him feel he's actually important and as great as he thinks. Wagner didn't even have to listen, he knew what his boss' answer would be.

Smith considered those words for a moment. He was sick of this voyage. Though his accommodations were rather agreeable, his surroundings bored him. Dirty mercenaries, low ranked subordinates – tools -, this was no company he usually accepted. No place to go, no inspiring conversations. It made him want to tear his hair out! Or it would, if he weren't so proud of his flaxen curls. It was about time that this stupid job ended, the sooner the better. But what this tool said, well. He couldn't just brush it off lightly. There were certain expectations to be met, large amounts of money were involved, as was the influence of many important names. Smith didn't like the idea to upset those names, his place was among them, and he couldn't afford to loose his aunt's protecting hand. With a sigh, he leaned back into his chair.

"Well, Wagner, I congratulate you, you can think, not a very common ability among my subordinates I regret to say. I allow you to play your game a bit longer, three days! Then, I want them dead, so we can finally speed the train up again and return. Do not fail, or you will be body No. 10, did I make myself clear?"

"Clear as day. Thank you, Sir, thank you so much. I won't disappoint you. I leave now, so much work to do." The slim man bowed again, hiding a dark smile from his boss' eyes when he turned around and went for the door. Too easy. Everything was so easy. Oh yes, everything went according to his plans indeed.

x x x x x x

„Ah, zere you are, is our Engineer well, Medic?" Spy met the doctor and the Engineer in the corridor, both looking a bit tired, but not all too concerned, the white, clean bandages around the Texan's shoulder contrasting his blood covered shirt and skin. His face was a bit pale, but otherwise he seemed alright. Medic's air of satisfaction confirmed this impression.

"Did zhe Soldier send you? Does he need somezhing?" the German asked while the three of them walked towards the first wagon.

"Non, mon ami, Monsieur Soldier wants us to meet in the first half of zis compartment, and ordered me to tell you. Eh voilà, zat's why I am ici." He took an implied bow. "And here we are, n'est-ce pas? Let us see what our friend has to say."

Medic pulled a grimace when they entered the conference room. It was unusually lively in here, with all the men sitting and talking around the table, but he couldn't shed the memory of the night when he rested here after the attack. Too well he remembered the revived shadows and pictures in his minds, the feeling of helplessness, the fear when he awoke. His eyes searched for the Sniper. The Australian was, even for his standards, extraordinarily grumpy today. Beside their fight in the morning they hadn't talked much since that night. As a matter of fact, Sniper hadn't talked much with anyone, and if he did, his answers were short.

'Ich frage mich...' but he didn't finish his thought when his unfocused gaze was answered by shaded eyes, glancing above the rim of Sniper's favorite coffee mug. "Impertinent fool." the German growled to himself, turning away, and finally sat down between the Engineer and Pyro.

Soldier was exchanging some quick, worried words with the Texan, when he noticed that everyone was present by now. He cleared his throat and started to speak.

"Let's make this short. Obviously, someone is out to get us, one by one. I don't know if he really wants to kill or to play with us. Either way, this cannot be tolerated. We must stop this before one of us is killed."

Mumbling voices agreed with him.

„Aye, what's yer idea, Soldier? What shall we do 'bout it? Wait? Ye better remember me can't be with all of ye all the time to save ye asses." Demo grinned smugly, but sure nobody mistook this for light-headedness. The sound of his words made it clear – the next time, he wanted to blow something, or rather someone, else up instead of a fireplace or a sentry. He, too, was itching to get his hands on their enemy.

"Coming to that, Demo. I say, we waited long enough, waited since summer. I cannot believe that Smith is responsible for the recent events, at least I doubt he executed them, but he sure knows what's going on.

That's our objective. Get out of here, get Smith, get answers. Heavy here," he nodded at the Russian, "and I discussed how we will proceed.

Listen.

There could be an ambush waiting for us. But after all, if they just wanted to kill us, they could have done so easily, instead we are attacked one by one. So I don't think it's likely, but we do not know.

Whatever, we have to break through their defense, that is, the locked door. Demo, that's our job. Scout, Medic, I want you to guard the doorway between compartment one and two. Pyro, you stay between us, so you can join either side if necessary, and keep an eye on our supply room. Engineer, well... our initial plan was to have you set up one or two defensive devices, but now..."

With a sigh, Engineer shrugged, flinching when his injured shoulder moved. "Ah gonna try, my good hand's fine, yeah, ah can definitely do something, but dunno how fast..."

"I vill not have you strain your arm, Herr Engineer." the Medic's voice interrupted firmly.

"Neither will I." Soldier added. "Okay, Medic, you think you can have an eye on him? When he's overdoing it, call him to rest, and he has to listen."

"Yeah, just go on, treatin' me as ah'm not even here, Yankee..."

"Anyway." ignoring the last remark, Soldier continued. "Heavy stays right behind Demo and me, ready to fire, just in case."

Now it was Sniper, who broke in. "Oi, I hope somethin' left for me, mate. Start feelin' my skills ain't of no use to yer guys anymore, and this's pissin' me off..."

"Stop whining, I was coming to that. You and Spy, you will come from above."

"Eh, what?"

"Pardon-moi?"

Soldier almost chuckled at their simultaneous reaction.

"I want you two to climb the train. You are going to walk above our heads, and try to find another way inside. Sneak in, silence whoever stands in your way. We do not know where we will find Smith, so if we attack from two different directions, different styles, it's more likely we will surprise them. Just make sure you stay in the shadows. You think you are up to it?"

"Bloody hell, yeah!" Sniper almost jumped from his seat, but regained his composure at once. "No problem. Gonna do it, gonna work this out. Rely on us. Right, spook?" He glanced at the Spy, who nodded.

"Bien. Pas de problème at all. What will we do once we find Smiz?"

"Question him, of course, and then," Soldier grinned diabolically, "then we highjack this goddamned train."

x x x x x x

"How can ya still smoke, Spy, not 'fraid it might blow ya up 'gain?" Sniper was watching how Pyro worked on the ceiling. Inhaling the smoke coming from the man standing next to him, he yearned for a cigarette.

"Non. Zis man had only tried once, he does not seem to hit ze same man twice. And our friends, zey checked. Moi, I am not afraid." He jumped to the side when a piece of metal came down. The wood-panels that covered the ceiling had been removed, revealing the exterior wall, consisting of iron. Under the Engineer's instruction Pyro had modified his weapon by combining the gasoline tank with an oxygen bottle they had found between the Medic's tools, and improvising a flame cutter. The pressure was a bit too low to have it work properly, but it was strong enough to slowly cut through the metal. Soon spark flew around, igniting the red carpet and upholstery when they landed. Spy and Sniper assisted by extinguishing them before they could inflame anything.

"There ain't really nothing workin' ya up, right?"

"Non." Smiling, Spy blew a cloud of smoke into the Australian's face. "Do you wish to have one of zese, mon Sniper? I does not mind sharing." he offered generously.

"Pah." The Australian snorted. "Okay, gimme a fag, thanks mate." He snatched the cigarette from the French's hand and lit it right away with a match Spy handed him.

"Ah, that's heaven, mate, that's heaven."

"'ut 'o 'e 'way!" shouted the muffled voice above them, and just when they jumped aside, a large plate of iron, still glowing at its edges, fell down and landed at their feet.

"Bloody... Pyro! Ya wanna kill us?" Sniper exclaimed in surprise and gave the piece of junk a kick.

"Hey, are ya listenin' to... Pyro?"

"'ome up! 'urry! 'ou 'ave t' 'ee 'at!" The short man had half disappeared through the hole, his feet dangling in the air. Fresh air came in and the noises of the traveling train.

"What is it, Monsieur Pyro? Qu'est-ce que vous trouvez?" Spy stood right under Pyro, staring upwards.

"Outta my way, lemme have a look." Sniper pushed the French aside, not hearing the protesting, hissed curse, and climbed on the chair Pyro had stood on before. Balancing on the chair-back, he joined the masked man. The wind almost blew his hat away, so he held it in place.

"HOLY...!"

"'eauti'ul, eh?"

Both men hung at the edge of the hole, facing the direction the train came from. Around them, the wasteland stretched as far as the horizon. The sky clear, the sun already gone, and a purple half moon rising, neither day nor night, twilight colored the world with its eerie light. Here and there, were the sky was darker, bright stars could be seen, harbingers of the lurking darkness.

The snow was gone, this was more like the Dustbowl area they were used to, sand everywhere, yet the desert wasn't as dead as it should be. Withered, bare trees were scattered through the landscape, little groves of dry bushes here and there. Large, abstract formats of rocks and boulders rushed by their eyes as the train drove on.

"What is this?" Sniper whispered in amazement. "Where's the snow, where are we..."

"Move aside, boys, comin' up!" Engineer's voice could be heard from inside, as well as the muttered calls from Soldier who told the Texan to be careful and better stay down at all.

"Come here, gonna help ya up. Whoa!" While Sniper lifted the Engineer up by pulling on his good arm he almost lost his hat again, but caught it just in time.

"Thanks pardner. Boy, ain't that a nice sight?"

"What's goin' on here, Engineer? Why's this so different?" Sniper asked. By now it was too tight for the three of them to hang there comfortably, and they had to pay attention not to fall down.

"Well, guess what's they call ' brier savannah', not very common on our continent. Seems likely the climate got messed up too much, and this is the bridge 'tween the snow and the regular desert. Already dry 'n unfriendly, hot durin' the day, but not _that _dry. Gonna bet there are even rain periods."

"'Of course ya know that stuff." Sniper laughed. "What are ya, a certified weatherfrog?"

Engineer laughed as well, shifting his shoulder to a more comfortable position.

"Don't get cocky, Lanky. Just joined a few lectures on meteorology at university a while ago."

"Man, ya sure were bored, weren't ya?"

"Somethin' like that. Let's get down again, that Soldier's pullin' ma leg, and ya know he is NOT the jokin' type."

Pyro and Sniper chuckled and jumped down, as soon as they were back on their feet they helped Engineer down as well.

"Welcome back, monkey boys." Soldier growled, glaring at them. "Hope you had fun."

"'y, 'anks, 'oldier." Pyro answered, very politely. "'t 'as 'ery 'elaxin', 'ou 'ould 'y 't 'oo." The others grinned, the short man seemed to be in a good mood. They couldn't say that about Soldier, though. His narrowed eyes shot angry glares at both, Engineer and Pyro, but let the matter be for now.

"Fine. The exit is done, everyone is ready. How about you, boys? Let's get things started. You have 15 Minutes to get your weapons, stock up with ammunition and return right here. After that, we take our positions and heat things up a bit."

The men darted away, 15 minutes more than enough, as they had spent the last weeks, even months with maintaining their weapons, keeping them in order, clean and working. Oh yes, they were ready to get things going. Time to fight again, finally.

Sniper rummaged through his stuff, pocketing his shades and putting on his gloves. He was counting the bullets for his rifle when a rough push made him turn around. In front of him stood the Medic, arms crossed and with a serious, angry expression on his face.

"Eh, mate, what's it now I've done? Dun't remember harassin' ya recently." The stare caused a nervous feeling. He wasn't in the mood to argue now, even not with the German. The last two days had been boring, and it bothered him he hadn't been of any use lately. True, fortunately he had decided to follow Medic after a while on the day their enemy had struck for the first time, and he probably had prevented worse things to happen to him. But still, his skills hadn't been involved. Not then, not the last weeks. He grew restless and was eager to start.

"Here, have zhat." Without a further word Medic threw something at Sniper, who caught the little object with ease.

The Australian looked at the little bottle.

"Poison?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Don't be silly, Dummkopf. Zhis could be dangerous, running on zhe roof of zhe train. Zhis medicine is somezhing I've been vorking on for a vhile. It is not tested. Do only take zhat vhen zhings go really vrong, alles klar?" the German explained grimly.

"Ya know, ya are creepy, in a good way. Thank ya." Thoughtfully, he stared at the vial in his hand. The liquid looked strange, clear, yet he couldn't see through it. The light broke in an odd way he couldn't really figure out.

"So when things are getting' hot, I just gulp that down, right?"

"Nein." His mouth twitched a bit, like he tried to hide a smile, when Medic handed him a small box. Sniper opened the lid and flinched. "Ugh. No oral medicine, yeah? A shot. Uh, thank ya anyway, I guess..."

"Don't tell me you are afraid of needles?" the Medic mocked him. "You vant it? If not, give it back, and I test it on someone else."

"No no, it's fine, it's fine." The Australian stored both, box and bottle, away in the inner pocket of his vest. "So... you didn't give this to everyone?"

"No, as I said, I had no time to test it. Zhere could be side effects, so don't use it lightly."

"Your way of revenge?"

"Maybe. And maybe I have a bad feeling about your mission, alzhough I do not know vhy. Be careful. Ve cannot afford to risk any men, so stop zhat retarded grinning, vill you?" the German added, annoyed .

"Of course." Not even trying to grin less retarded, Sniper finished his preparations.

The scheme was ready to be carried out. And the men were ready to do so.

x x x x x x

Sniper nodded in Pyro's direction, who, standing at the door, gave him a sign. Everything was alright, time to go. The Australian climbed on the chair again, pulling himself through the hole, lying flat on the roof, his rifle close to his body. He bent down the opening and helped Spy up. The train wasn't traveling all too fast now, even a bit slower than before, but still the speed was high enough to be dangerous if they didn't pay attention. For a moment or two they sat on the roof, shielding their eyes from the wind, and got used to the movement before they dared to stand up.

"Be careful, Monsieur Sniper, zis is hazardous. One wrong step could be ze last..." Spy shouted against the noise of the wind and the train, ducking behind the Australian's back.

"Don't worry, Spook. This is just getting started." Step by step they advanced forward, against the pressure of the wind. He sounded confident, obviously, he enjoyed the situation immensely.

The night was still clear, with its dark-blue sky and the bright moon. It was cold, but far from the cold they had to fight in Dustbowl. The air reminded him of a chilly spring night like he experienced them when he traveled Europe, it even smelled a bit like rain, although he couldn't see any clouds. He was humming to himself when they crossed the gap between the first and the second compartment, feeling oddly relaxed.

According to the plan they had discussed, Spy and him would have to proceed to the end of third compartment, and try to get an overview of the whole train, of how many wagons it actually consisted of. The peek through the opening only a little while before had not revealed much, only that their "room" wasn't actually the end, it was connected to a smaller, strangely shaped wagon that was attached directly to theirs. Probably a water tank, which explained how the bathroom was provided with fresh water. From what Sniper could see so far the train had at least six or seven wagons, tank included, but he wasn't sure he could already spot the head. He had pulled Spy over the space between one and two, as he numbered the compartments in his head. Jumping was risky, the force of the wind made it hard to calculate the distance and necessary power for the leap, so they more or less half climbed, half jumped. Besides, the landing might catch the wrong men's attention. For now, it was better to stay unnoticed as long as possible. The mayhem would start soon enough.

A good time to enjoy the scenery, Sniper thought. A nice adventure, out in the open, was right up to his alley. As long as he wouldn't freeze to death. Everything was so peaceful, and exciting. His hand moved over the pocket where he hid the strange liquid Medic gave him. He was curious what this stuff was about, but for now he couldn't imagine he would need it at all.

"Sniper! Be careful! Watch ze feet!" But the warning was too late.

He couldn't figure what made him stumble, once he lost his footing everything happened fast. Spy was beside him, trying to hold him, but didn't succeed, Sniper saw the ground coming closer. Just before the train's wall diverged from him completely he could grab on an overhanging edge with one hand, his other still clung to his rifle.

"Mon dieu! Sniper!" Spy rushed to the ledge, reaching out for him. "Let ze gun go!"

"No!" the Australian shouted, not really realizing what had happened yet. "Spy! Take my hand! Pull me up!" A second later long, thin fingers clasped around his wrist, pulling, but too weakly. At this rate, he would fall. He looked down. Fortunately they weren't traveling at full speed, he would probably survive the fall. But he was not ready to give up yet.

Sniper held his breath and let go of the edge, clutching to the gloved hand that was holding him.

"Pull... me... up... you... can..." he hissed through his clenched teeth.

"Sniper! You are... heavy... Cannot... hold..." he heard the French struggling.

"Fuck..." It gave him a painful sting right into his heart when he finally decided to forsake his rifle. With his now free hand he tried to find a hold at the wall, pulling himself up.

"Non non non! Zis does not work! Sniper! SNIPER!" Spy cried when he watched the Sniper falling.

"Mon dieu! I WILL CALL HELP! WAIT ZERE!" he shouted. Then he looked at his bare hand. "Merde! Zis was one of my favorite gloves..."

He turned around, hurrying back as fast as he could.

x x x x x

"Ouch. Bloody fuckin' hell..." His head felt dizzy. The hard ground hurt his back, but he finally sat up, staring after the train. The moving train. The train that became smaller by the second.

"FUCK!" With a quick movement he was back on his feet and started to run, but soon stumbled again. "Ouch..." His right foot hurt. Hectically he felt for his ankle. Not broken, but hurt like hell, probably sprained.

"Okay, mate, think." he scolded himself, glancing around. "The situation is not as bad as it looks, ain't it?" As far as he could judge he wasn't injured, only his ankle and some bruises that wouldn't start to hurt before tomorrow. He clenched his fists and relaxed them again. Good, moved without any problems at all. How much time had passed between the release of his gun and his fall? Not much, he was sure about that and started backtracking the rails. It took him less than five minutes to find his beloved rifle, but the delight faded away as soon as he checked the weapon. The sight was broken, the long barrel slightly awry. Useless. But he brought it along anyway.

Hurriedly he jogged along the tracks, following the train that was already out of sight.

"Fuck... so much about adventure and excitement." he grumbled, hoping his team mates would be more successful. And soon. The sooner, the better, he doubted he would catch up with them if they didn't stop that damn train. At least the moon shone brightly, spending enough light to illuminate the wasteland. He could see well even without zoom or nightscope.

Suddenly, only a few inches beside him, a bullet hit the ground.

xxxxx to be continued xxxxx

_Another weekend over, another chapter._

_Not much to say about this one, though. It's not too special, not naughty, but I hope you like it anyway :)_

_Had no idea how to name this chapter, I was listening to "be prepared"/Lion King, so... (well, I actually prefer Scar's German voice .com/watch?v=EC9Pkz9dPMU That doesn't happen very often, usually I'm for the orginal when it comes to movies and such, but Thomas Fritsch has such a great voice, he also spoke Diego... wait? What has this to do with anything?)_

_I'll be away in a few hours and probably not be online before Tuesday (but I hope for the best.)._

_And here they are - the translations:_

_Pyro:_

_'ut 'o 'e 'way! - out of the way_

_"'ome up! 'urry! 'ou 'ave t' 'ee 'at!" - come up! Hurry! You have to see that!_

_"'y, 'anks, 'oldier." Pyro answered, very politely. "'t 'as 'ery 'elaxin', 'ou 'ould 'y 't 'oo." - Why, thanks, Soldier. It was very relaxing, you should try it, too._

_Medic:_

_Ich frage mich = I wonder... (actually, "I ask myself..." but it means "I wonder...")_

_Spy:_  
><em>Qu'est-ce que vous trouvez – What did you find?<em>


	15. Chapter 15

_[author's note] the usual – translations at the bottom [/author's note]_

**Snowbowl****15**** – ****Lost ****Opportunities**

Not a word was spoken, unbroken silence. Seven hearts pumping fast, blood streaming through veins, adrenaline flowing, muscles twitching. Fingers itching, not nervously, but excited, close to triggers, close to hilts of knifes and bats, waiting for a sign, a signal, a reason.

Minds working, reading movements and noises, ready to act and react.

The storm was waiting, impatiently, to be unleashed.

Anticipation, restlessness, concentration.

The wait for the beginning, a beginning that could be the end. For today or forever. Hold back and survive – a shame. Hold back and die – a waste.

Give it all and live. Give at all and die. Earned pride, earned honor.

A last moment for thoughts that might never be thought if not now.

The all too well-known mood before the start of a battle.

Five minutes left.

x x x x x

For the 10th time Medic checked his equipment. Or was it the 15th? 20Th?

Sniper and Spy had climbed through the hole only a few minutes ago, Pyro and Heavy had positioned themselves in the corridor of the second compartment, Soldier and Demo were busy with the preparations for the locked door, Engineer close by, trying his best to construct one of his small sentries. Not much firepower, but easier to build. They had decided that the door to the first wagon probably was save for now, so Scout had joined the Texan and assisted. The team was glad the boy had regained his eyesight, especially considering the timing. Nobody would have said a word, but a blind team-member would have been a burden. Of course they would have dealt with that, too, but him being an actual help was unquestionably preferable. The Scout wasn't known for his skills in mechanics though, but simple tasks, under the guidance of a patient man like Engineer, weren't a big problem.

For a while Medic listened to the breath sounds of the nearby Pyro, he could hear footsteps, Heavy playing with his weapon, the fainter sound of tools working metal. He felt uneasy at first, having no sight of the others. The last time he was alone ended with the first strike of their opponent.

However, he wasn't powerless, now, as he was warned. The element of surprise sure wasn't on the side of the enemy today. Musingly he gazed at a little bottle in his hand, holding it to the light so he could watch the strange reflections the liquid inside caused. Was it wise to give away the half of what had ever been produced? More than twenty years of research, experiments, failures and improvements of a well hidden formula, half of it now in the hands of that irresponsible man. Medic shook his head. What a silly notion, a whim... he had no idea what had come over him, but well, questioning his sudden decision did not make sense now. He did, for whatever reason, and maybe it was in vain, wasted. Or would help a man to survive.

"Oder es bringt ihn um..." he muttered. As a punishment to get even with the Australian it didn't work, that was obvious now, as it was him, Medic himself, who got more and more anxious about the possible outcome of his actions. "Und der Idiot denkt wahrscheinlich nicht mal daran." With an angry growl he threw the vial in the air and caught it again midair. "What the hell am I doing?" he scolded himself, and then smiled. Sometimes he caught himself thinking in English. The language wasn't all too hard to learn, but he had needed some years to get used to it. Understanding was much easier than expressing, and secretly he had given up the hope to ever lose his accent. At least no one mocked him anymore, except Spy, sometimes. But the French mimicked all of them, and wasn't too vain when it came to his own deficits, so Medic didn't really take offense anymore. He checked his watch. Five minutes left. He put the phial away, regretting that memories couldn't be banned from his mind as easily as the little object from his sight. His reflections about the English language and his own, while looking at the bottle, triggered another memory of the past. "1946..." he pondered...

x x x x x x

He was no older than 20 years when he stood, alone, on the balcony of the Strandhotel. His eyes gazed over the river Elbe, taking in the red and orange colors emitted by the setting sun. The increasing breeze reminded him that summer was over, it had been one of the last warm September days, another day of elusive peace. Blankenese, this little district of Hamburg was quiet and beautiful like it had always been, like there never had been a war at all. Only the laughter and foreign voices, carried by the wind through the clear, crisp air, hinted at the British occupation force. He felt uneasy when he heard them pass by, but his face was unknown and they were too drunk to notice him anyway.

For a moment he focused his view at the line of the opposite shore. From inside the building behind him he heard the bright and cheerful score of another piece of Jazz, a style of music very popular these days, enjoyed by Germans and Brits alike. Laughter mixed with the jaunty beat, a happy little, exclusive party. A farce, even a mockery of the scenario at the other side of the river, hidden from their eyes by harbor buildings and fields. Destroyed buildings, countless homeless souls, children searching the ruins for food or anything tradeable. Families without beds to sleep in, sickness, injuries, hunger. Bombed, uneven streets patrolled by the Jeeps of the invaders. The relief of being alive, despite all adverse conditions, was overshadowed by an always prominent guilt.

Who he was, where he came from, he should be dead, and if not dead, he shouldn't be here. Yet, here he stood, wearing the garments of a man of the German upper society, drinking red wine from a crystal glass. Healthy, sated. Yes, the price he had paid had been high, nothing more but his pride, ethics and family. Traded everything, for a reward that seemed so small sometimes – his life.

Suddenly he felt the urge to yell at the sun, how it could dare to rise and set, as if life could just went on, he wished there was rain, storm, hail, anything that would fit his gloomy mood.

Lost in his thoughts he missed the sound of the door behind him.

"Hier bist Du. Komm, Wilhelm, Vater möchte uns sehen." A small, equally young woman slipped her arm through his and smiled a sweet smile. He withstood the impulse to shove her away, not a clever move, risking everything after all his sins with a wrong reaction or only the display of the true emotions he felt when he looked at his wife.

"Was will er jetzt wieder?" he asked, unwillingly to give up the few moments of solitude yet.

"Ein alter Freund ist hier, dem er gerne seinen Schwiegersohn vorstellen würde." She giggled, like a little girl, but the underlying triumph told him it wasn't because of a young woman's shyness or modesty.

"Na dann, nach Dir, meine Liebe." He emptied his glass and followed her inside.

"Wilhelm, Irmengard." A tall, scrawny man greeted them stiffly. His father-in-law was a man of principle and it was no surprise he would never warm up to the newest member of his family. Wilhelm didn't mind. The repulsion was mutual.

"May I introduce you, this is Mr. St. John, we used to study together in England. George, this is Irmengard, my lovely oldest daughter. And her husband, Wilhelm."

St. John, a small, round man, his face hidden behind a bushy beard, winked at them with friendly eyes. "Nice to meet you, sweetie. Got a nice man there, pretty young, you two, aren't you? Are you a doctor, too, Wilhelm?"

He nodded. "Yes, I vork in Herr Conti 's hospitals. I zhere met her." As usual, he didn't waste many words on his little backstory.

Basic information, that should be sufficient, and save him from making mistakes. In this case, his very rudimental knowledge of the English language proved to be a helpful excuse. He shook hands with the new acquaintance. At least this man was unlike his wife's father, friendly, jolly, ready to laugh. Why he was friend with a character like Leonard Conti was beyond him. Politely he listened to the following conversation, adding a nod or a short answer when he was addressed, otherwise he tried to keep to himself. After a while he became restless, unable to make out the reason right away. Then he noticed – another stranger had joined their little group, as silent as him. But while he didn't really focus on anyone or anything, the stranger stared at him. Wilhelm was surprised he hadn't acknowledged his presence earlier. This man, probably twenty-something if not thirty, was tall, even taller than Conti, but that wasn't the point. Today was a formal party, at least as far as the dress code was concerned. There was no man not wearing a suit, the ladies showed off the newest fashion, praising and envying their friends' outfits at the same time. This man wore a plain pair of jeans as they were usually worn by construction workers, a once white shirt tugged loosely in. The worn-out, brown leather jacket couldn't hide the desolate condition of his garment. Even his hair stood out, too long, almost touching his neck, and, of course, uncombed. Not to mention the fact that his face was in badly need of a shave.

As if the stranger had guessed his thoughts, he rubbed his stubble and grinned. For some reason, Wilhelm couldn't help it, he grinned back. This guy was so much out of place, it was actually hilarious. Whoever this man was, he liked him, because he was so different from all those people around him. Furthermore, his composure radiated something Wilhelm couldn't interpret, something that fascinated him. He watched as the stranger bowed down to St. John and whispered a few words into his ear. The small man patted him on the shoulder and laughed.

"My friends, may I introduce another friend of mine? We met in England a few days before my departure, and he decided to join my trip rather spontaneously. Meet Nicholas Mundy, genuine Australian. Don't be fooled by his unshaven face and scruffy appearance, he's just 24. Nicholas, those are Leonard Conti, his lovely daughter Irmengard and her husband, Wilhelm."

"Oi, g'day mates, ow ya goin'?" His smile widened as he raised a finger as to tip against the rim of a hat when he bowed at the young woman. "Nice ta meet ya." He shook the men's hands. "What's the matter?" he wondered when he noticed the puzzled faces, and St. John laughed even more. "Nick, my friend, they are not used to English anyway, your slang probably sounds like gibberish to them."

"Ah fuck, ahm sorry, gotta try ta speak more decent, 'kay?" Again, he grinned at Wilhelm. "Understand meh now?"

"Ja, äh, yes, I zhink zo..." he chuckled.

"Good. Now that we are all friends, how 'bout offerin' a mate a tinny? I mean, ya got some beer for an old man's thirsty throat?"

"Why don't you young folks have a drink? I and Leo here have a lot of boring business talk to do anyway." St. John suggested, obviously very amused about the ambivalent impression his friend had made. Conti was not very taken in by the rough charm of the Australian, the girl seemed extremely thrilled about this exciting, wild stranger. As for this Wilhelm... this was the first time this evening he saw the young man smile.

Monday

When Irmengard's father had offered St. John to stay for a few days at their residence, he hadn't known he would have to invite the Australian globetrotter, too, but he couldn't refrain from his invitation if he didn't want to lose his face. He was a cold, calculating man, and even if he still valued the companionship of an old study mate, the fact he didn't regard it as wise to anger a British was more important. Bad enough that the man knew and used his real name. It would be easier to sell him a plausible, harmless explanation when St. John stayed with them. He could push off the unwanted visitor on his despised son-in-law anyway. If it weren't for his daughter...

Wilhelm knew his father-in-law well enough to guess his thoughts, he couldn't care less. This Australian was a more agreeable company anyway, although a conversation wasn't always easy.

Tuesday

"Ein wenig besser würd' er leben,  
>Hättst du ihm nicht den Schein des Himmelslichts gegeben;<br>Er nennt's Vernunft und braucht's allein,  
>Nur tierischer als jedes Tier zu sein. "<p>

Wilhelm chuckled. The play had just begun and he had already had to nudge the man sitting next to him. A friend and his wife had tickets, but preferred not to go, as another Jazz band played the same evening at the Strandhotel. So he and Nicholas had decided to go instead. He liked "Faust", and today it was performed by a renowned artist, but his companion fell asleep after a few minutes.

When the play was over he couldn't help laughing once they left the theater. Nicholas kept complaining. "Oi, why'd ya hit meh, gotta get them bruises all over t'morrow."

"You sleep loud, all zheatre heard you, but not zhe Schauspiel... zhe... zhe men perform."

"Ya mean actors, mate." Nicholas joined the laughter and put his arm around the German's shoulder in a friendly manner. "Yer a' alright, mate, but, ser'sly, yer English sucks."

"Your is not better." Wilhelm protested. "I does understand your friend, but I can't you understand good."

"I can't understand you well." the Australian corrected, smiling. "Doesn't matter, oi, I know whaddya sayin'. Let's go sloshed, ah feel lika could put an all-nighter. Could drink until dawn." he added when he saw Wilhelm's puzzled face.

"Yes, you sleep like a child close to zhree hours." he sneered.

"It's almost three hours. He, when ah leave ya speak perfectly, whaddya say, it's a bet?" he teased back.

"Vollidiot. Sleep make you stupid." Once more he nudged his ribs with his elbow.

"Yeah, yeah. Come on, let's get wasted, gotta make ya loosen up a bit, ya too starched up for ya age."

He steered them right to a nearby bar. It was amazing, it was only his third day in Blankenese, but Nicholas obviously already knew where he could find entertainment. But it was Wilhelm now who felt out of place. This location was neither stiff nor formal. Instead of wine they served beer, the music was an odd mix of Jazz, Swing and German chansons. The air was thick with smoke and the guests dressed far more casual than those people he had to socialize with since his marriage.

According to the occasion, a visit at the theater, he wore a suit. The Australian had, at least, put on a black, formal jacket he had borrowed from some of the new friends he seemed to make daily, and a clean, white shirt. But as they couldn't find dress trousers that would fit his long legs, he wore his jeans. Fortunately one of the servants had washed them yesterday.

A few glasses of beer later Wilhelm didn't mind his attire anymore. They laughed about the previous visit of the play, suddenly he thought it was incredibly funny how the audience members from two rows in front of them had turned around several times, glaring angrily whenever Nicholas snored too loud.

"Ah didn't even get what them guys on the stage were talkin' 'bout. Liked the mate's voice, though, kinda relaxin'. Anyway, can't ya translate what he said?" he challenged the German, who boldly accepted, frowning when he tried to put together the words of a few verses.

"Human live a bit better

vizhout zhe shine from zhe heavenslight from you

he say it is reason but uses it alone...

to be only more animal zhan animals...

Ach, zum Teufel. Does zhis have some sense for you?"

The Australian smiled at the man's frustration and the, well, rather free use of grammar. It was charming.

"Yeah, makes sense, dun't worry, Will. Can I call ya that? It's easier." he asked, waving for the waitress to bring two more drinks.

"Pah." the young man snorted. "Vant me translate poetry many Germans does not understand. But is too, ähm.. A name is too different for you."

"You mean 'difficult', Will. Here, have another." He passed him one of the full beer mugs.

Wednesday

"Drink again? Nicholas, my head hurts still from yesterday." he complained when the Australian tried to convince him to visit the bar from their last evening again.

"Come on, dun't be a sissy. It's borin' here, only ya daddy-in-law here and his business friends. Don't like them." As usual, the man was outspoken. Although he maintained a polite behaviour in front of his host, it couldn't be mistaken for sympathy. When they were alone, he uttered his dislike without hesitation. Wilhelm admired him for that. And he had to agree, it was boring. Well, it couldn't hurt to tag along, nobody said he had to drink again.

After the third glass he felt tired and dizzy, his head hurt. His mood didn't improve when two girls walked up to them, asking for their names as they tried to engage them in a conversation. Nicholas flirted back for a while, but once he noticed the German's unapproachable attitude, he smiled at the two women, asking them to leave. "Ya see, Ladies, mah friend is married, can't have all the fun and have him watching, alright?." Although disappointed, the girls went away, directing a table occupied by a group of British soldiers.

A bit worried, Nicholas looked at his friend's face. Not only there was an annoyed frown, he swore he had seen him flinch at his words. He tried to recall the words he had used a moment ago, then he thought about Wilhelm's behaviour. Here, at home, with his family. What a family...

"Well, mate, gotta admit it, ya got a pretty Sheila at home. That is, woman, wife." he explained. "Just my league, ya know. Good I met ya together, otherwise ah would have hit on her... flirted with her... pretty thing..." He watched his reaction closely and was not really surprised when Wilhelm gave a bitter laugh.

"Vish you do. Take her vizh you, and zhe bastard of a fazher. Feed zhem to zhe crocodiles, or vhat animals you have at home."

The mood had changed. Dark and gloomy. Shadows seemed to cover the young man's face, anger, sadness, bitterness. The same expression Nicholas observed when he first saw him few days ago, standing between all those people, yet alone. The sadness and defiance in the young man's eyes – eyes too grave and lusterless in his young, handsome face - had caught his attention from the moment he had seen him.

"You don't love her, right?" he asked carefully.

"No."

"Why did ya marry her?" he inquired.

"Had my reasons."

"Money?"

"No."

"Influence?"

"No."

"But why..."

"Vhy ask so many questions? Vhy is zhis your business now? Can ask, too. Vhy came to Germany. Vhy now, at zhese times?" Anger flared up in his voice, and he had to remember they were not alone. The Australian winced at the sudden outburst. So there was a fire burning inside this man, subdued, denied, but it was there. Well, anyway, it was a valid question.

"Dunno, seemed like a good idea. Ya know, ah like a good adventure. Got bored with the Australian outback, Europe was in an uproar, like wild, ya understand? Thought ah gotta see that with my own eyes. Met this guy in a pub in England, and decided to travel with him." He shrugged. Basically, that was all there was to say about, after all, there wasn't a specific reason. "Seemed like a good idea. What's wrong? Hey, Will..."

The German's eyes had changed, the bitterness vanished, its place taken by cold wrath and scorn. Without a word, Wilhelm stood up, for a second Nicholas was sure he was going to hit him, but instead he just turned away and left.

"Sorry, gotta go." Hurriedly, the Australian threw some cash on the counter and followed his friend, confused, as he couldn't imagine what had caused the radical change. It was scary.

"Hey, man, wait!" He caught up with him soon, taking hold of his shoulder to stop him, but Wilhelm just shook off his hand. "Leave me, let me alone." he growled.

"Certainly not. Whaddya think ya doin'? What did ah say? Hey, come on, we are friends, right?"

"Friends? Ha! Because it seems a good idea? A good idea like going to a continent at war? Because you are bored you go to a destroyed land? Count dead people for fun? Climb bombed houses like mountains?" He yelled now. Nicholas noticed some lights that were switched on behind close-drawn curtains.

"Ahm sorry, Will, I'm sorry, but calm down, don't yell, or you wake the whole town. Come." He grabbed the trembling hand of the furious man and dragged him into a darker alley.

"You are right, sorry, okay? You... I forgot you grew up under a twisted regime, sorry. I mean, you lived here, during the war and all, gotta be horrible. Understand? Okay." He sighed. "I'm an idiot. My home is different and I was free to do what I want, I sometimes forget others don't... forget it, alright? Hey, Will..." He didn't want him to be angry, his head still wasn't completely sober yet, despite the cold air, but he knew that much. "I like ya, mate. I really like ya..." Following a sudden impulse, he hugged the young man, burying his face in the chestnut brown hair, his hand unconsciously caressing the skin of the German's neck . "Don't be angry with me, Will."

The German's anger subsided a bit, but didn't vanish. Forcefully, he pushed the taller man away. "Do not behave like I am a small child." he growled. The smell of Nicholas' clothes remained in his nose a little longer. Suddenly he realized something, he remembered how he was fascinated by this man's attitude a few days ago, without being able to name it. Now he understood. Freedom. Something he never had and probably would never have. His cheeks were burning. And he felt how he envied this man, for all his carelessness, egoism, lighthearted decisions. The option of choices, the choice to leave home, the choice to visit different places, the choice to travel countries in the times of war and after.

"I didn't mean to... that's not what I... whatever. I'm sorry, Will." he repeated. "Hey... I will leave soon, anyway, maybe head home, or to America. Why don't ya come with me?" he suggested, delighted by the idea.

"An other idea zhat seem good?" Wilhelm smiled weakly. "No, zhank you. Zhis is not possible, and danger for me. You cannot understand..."

"Come on, we can find a way, it's gonna be fun..."

But this rekindled the anger in him once more. "Fun, fun, fun. Life is not only fun, Nicholas! It is serious and deazh and suffer... fahr zur Hölle, hau ab!" He didn't yell again, but his voice was desperate. "I... hate you, like her. And zhem. Go to hell..." he finally said, and before the other man could react, he walked away.

x x x x x

A loud curse brought him back to the presence. A sadness he hadn't felt in years filled him. He swallowed hard.

"Everything alright?" he could hear the Soldier yell.

"Fine everything is!" Heavy answered.

With a sigh, Medic tried to push away the memories of the past. He checked his watch. Only a few more seconds. "Vhy didn't you ask me again? Left vizhout a vord." He looked up to the hole in the ceiling. "Better come back alive, Dummkopf. Still gotta get even vizh your 'good ideas' of the past few veeks."

x x x x x

He dodged another bullet and flinched when his swollen ankle hit against the ground. Ignoring the thumping pain he got back on his feet and ran, not away, but towards the direction the shots came from. Running away would only increase the distance to the train, and it wouldn't help much anyway if the shooter wasn't completely useless. Somehow, he doubted that. With another jump he took cover behind a large boulder, catching his breath, while he listened to the sounds of the night. No treacherous sign of the attacker, neither visible nor audible. The Sniper could estimate the eventual direction the bullets came from by the angle of the impact, probably somewhere from the railway, so he would have to run into this guy's arms anyway if he wanted to get back to the train as fast as possible.

He was positive that the gunman knew where he was, often enough he had been the hunter, in a wide open area like this it might have been possible to hide from the hairline cross, but not from the observing eyes of a skilled hunter.

Once more he checked his broken rifle, but as he had feared it was beyond repair, at least for him without any tools and replacements. A few more seconds passed without anything happening although it felt like hours, but he knew it was a simple delusion. Another experience from hunting. He checked his belt and gave a relieved sigh. His Kukri was still there, and fortunately still in a good shape despite his fall. For now it wouldn't be of much use. Considering his options, he finally laughed.

"So this is my shout now, eh? Good. Gotta get ya head, ya and me have a score to settle, bastard." With a grim smile he was about to adjust his hat when he realized it was gone. "Gawddamn son of a mothafuckin' bitch-shit, it was mah favorite! Gonna get ya for that, too." he cursed, reluctantly pushing away the idea to search for it, and tried to look past the left side of the boulder, careful not to give up his cover.

The very same moment another bullet hit the rock right next to his head.

"Fucker." Quickly he hid again and collected his thoughts. Nobody had been killed yet, or very seriously wounded. He pulled a grimace but it was true – whatever had happened so far was dangerous and even sick, but not life-threatening. Yet it was a mistake to underestimate the enemy. The man was good and knew what he was doing. So the only reason he still had his head on his shoulders was neither luck nor his own gain. The shooter missed on purpose.

"Think ya can terrorize me with ya stupid game o' cat 'n mouse? Ha! Can't wait to teach ya some bush-man's rules."

The Sniper closed his eyes, and recalled in his mind's eye his surroundings as he had seen them. During his dash he had had only a few seconds to scan the area ahead. To the left were the rails, otherwise open land, only a few bushes, nothing useful. To his right however, beside a few cacti, another, larger formation of several big and small up-piled boulders. From the impact of the last shot he could tell that the shooter wasn't too close, so he wouldn't meet him there.

He decided to push his luck, and lunged out from behind his cover, to the left first, changing from a straight line to a zigzag course, heading to the right, when another bullet hit the ground.

"Guessin' mah moves, ain't ya?" Another jump, and he reached the boulders. His foot protested, but he had no time to deal with it now. "Ya not bad, bastard. No wonder, bein' all safe, let's see how good ya really are when I find ya." He had tried to get an overview of other possible hiding places. The clear night with its stars and the bright moon was an advantage for both of them. Though Sniper was easy to spot, he knew the same applied to the enemy. Darkness couldn't shield any of them, so the Australian simply had to look out for other covers and possible shelters and he would, sooner or later, confront that guy. Either that, or the man would run away or decide to finish him off for good. "Well, whoop-de-doo, isn't that just great." he grunted. The last shot had told him that he was coming closer to the source, and, more than that, that the source probably came closer to him.

"HEY! YA MOTHERFUCKIN' ASSHOLE! COME OUT AND FIGHT LIKE A MAN!" he shouted, angry and aggressive. This hide and seek game was far more annoying from the point of view of the prey. Of course, there was no answer. He listened for a few seconds, counted to 20. The next rocks that could work as a cover where further away, running zigzag again would cost him a good deal of stamina, not to mention what this would mean for his ankle. Suddenly he thought he heard a rustling sound. He shifted his Kukri to a position that would allow him to jump at his enemy, but all he saw was a small animal rushing by. "Gawd." He sat down again. "Don't startle an ol' man like that, fleabag." He lifted his eyes and looked at the moon, and when he noticed a moving shadow several feet in front of him it was too late. "Fuckin' bastard..."

The impact of a bullet thundered above his head when it set off an avalanche of rocks and splinters.

With a quick movement Sniper rolled to the side, covering his head. The stirred dust burned in his eyes. When he looked up again, he could see stones and rubble, partially large as his head, just where he sat a second before. Probably this wouldn't have killed him, but the rather possible injuries could have been devastating. Coughing, he searched for his broken gun and the machete. "Dammit, how fast is this asshat?" he cursed, and this time, he got an answer.

"Faster than you expected, I presume, Sniper." A voice laughed, mildly amused yet bored.

"Show your face, fuckin' asshole!" the Australian hissed, scanning the area where he thought the words came from.

"Sure." From behind a large cactus only a few feet away, the silhouette of a tall, slim man stepped out of the shadow cast by the moon. His face was hidden by the darkness, but the light illuminated his back as he walked towards the Sniper, and the Australian could clearly see he carried two or more different rifles on his back, and two smaller guns at his belt.

"So it was you who poisoned and almost strangled Will... Medic." Sniper grinned wide, flashing his teeth. "And messed with Spah's 'n Engineer's stuff..." He stood up again, ready to attack, but stopped when a gun was pointed at him.

"That would have been me, yes." the man confirmed, cold and indifferent. "A mere child's play, hardly worth the effort. I hoped you were more of a challenge, hunter." Critically he eyed him up, and snorted. "Look at you. Limping, unarmed, almost out of breath, covered in dust. Pathetic."

"Ah show ya pathetic." Sniper ducked and threw himself to the ground, reaching for his Kukri, and rolled sidewards, readying himself for the attack, but the other man reacted quickly and dashed towards him. The Australian felt a blunt pain when the hilt of the gun hit the side of his face. An even worse pain shot through his upper jaw and he tasted blood when a tooth broke.

"Fuck..." He saw stars and the world spun around him, but to his surprise and relief he wasn't knocked out. The short moment of disorientation was enough for the stranger to remove the machete from Sniper's hand and again it landed in the sand.

The mocking burst of laugh included so much hate and malice it sent shivers down his spine.

"Oh, it is too easy, too easy. Slow, incapable Sniper, what a disappointment. I wouldn't even need a bullet to finish you off right here and right now."

Sniper spat out some of the blood and felt the sharp edges of the split up tooth, flinching at the pain.

"Who laughs last laughs longest." he growled, lunged forward and tackled against the laughing man, and actually succeeded in sweeping him off his feet.

Now he had the chance to look at his face. Red scars covered the skin, not too fresh, like from an operation a few weeks ago. It was hard to figure out the man's features. Sniper stared at him too long, allowing his enemy to push him off. With a grunt he landed in the dirt.

"Idiot! Wasting a chance like this. Doesn't your stupidity know any boundaries?" hissed the man and pressed the gun against the Sniper's forehead. A metallic "click" told the Australian that the safety catch was released. 'This ain't lookin' good. Not at all... fuck... gotta get back... still gotta have things to settle, with Will... gotta apologize... '

"Why... who sent ya? Who are ya? Why this sick game?" he asked, spitting out again, maybe he could buy himself some valuable time.

"Sick game indeed." The man laughed bitterly. "You have no idea how sick, dear Sniper. And it's not over yet."

"Gonna kill me?"

"Do I kill you... do I let you get away... who knows? But I can tell you that much." He patted the Sniper's cheek with his free hand. "This is for me to decide."

"Sick psycho!" With difficulty he fought for his last verges of self-control, any inconsiderate move could influence that guy's decision in a not desirable way.

"My, how impolite. Coming from a guy who stalks one of the sickest psychos of your little team."

"What the bloody hell are ya gawddamend asshole talkin' 'bout?" He didn't like the tone of these words at all.

"This question, my friend, you better ask that dear doctor of yours." The man smiled sweetly. "Maybe I should delay his turn until you got some answers. Oh, you won't like them."

"His turn... you already did... don't you dare to...!"

"What? Don't I dare to touch him? As I said, I decide what happens in this game, not you. My game, my rules. But don't worry, I have some nice surprises for all of you, you will see soon enough." He stood up again and put his gun away. Sniper glared at him in disbelief.

"Ya don't finish me off?"

"Not yet. It's rather boring, isn't it? Run home to your Medic and your other friends. Enjoy the fun." He took a few steps backwards, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "What are you waiting for, Sniper? Go before I change my mind."

The Australian swallowed his wrath, every fiber in his body longing to attack. He glanced sideways at his Kukri.

"Pick it up, if you wish." the stranger allowed generously. "But it wouldn't be wise to attack me now, don't you agree. Hush, off with you! The train should have stopped by now, you probably arrive within an hour if you don't dawdle on your way."

Shaking with anger, and not feeling at ease at all to turn his back to that guy, Sniper followed the railway, his right hand clenching to his Kukri firmly enough to turn the knuckles white. Every few steps he looked over his shoulder, but the man stood still, immobile like a rock in the landscape.

The distance between them was about 200 feet. The noise of a fired arm didn't come unexpected. Sniper turned on his heel, only to go down once more when a dozen of birdshot broke through the skin of his left upper leg the moment he faced his enemy's direction.

Rushing footsteps came closer, accompanied by shrill, mad laughter.

"So sorry, changed my mind!" the manic voice shouted.

"So did I." Sniper raised his machete and while standing up slowly, his free hand rammed the needle of a syringe into his arm. 'I count on you, Will.'

xxxxxx to be continued xxxxx

_Translations:_

"_Oder es bringt ihn um..." = "Or it kills him..."_

"_Und der Idiot denkt wahrscheinlich nicht mal daran." = "And this idiot probably doesn't even think about it at all."_

"_Hier bist Du. Komm, Wilhelm, Vater möchte uns sehen." = "There you are. Come, father wishes to see us."_

"_Was will er jetzt wieder?" = "What does he want this time?"_

"_Ein alter Freund ist hier, dem er gerne seinen Schwiegersohn vorstellen würde." = "An old friend arrived, he would like to introduce his son-in-law to him."_

"_Na dann, nach Dir, meine Liebe." = "Well then... after you, my dear."_

"_but not zhe Schauspiel..." = was about to say "Schauspieler" = actors_

_Vollidiot = Dumbass_

_Ach zum Teufel = Dash it! Confound it! To hell with it! _

_Fahr zur Hölle! Hau ab! = Go to hell! Get lost!_

_Have some music first:_

_For Sniper's scene later this chapter: watch?v=IDhfn7U7ujE_

_As for the first part... I listened to some Jazz music from this time and a song from a German songwriter, but I don't know if it makes much sense when you don't understand the lyrics... try if your youtube finds "Reinhard Mey Eisenbahnballade"._

_I'm so nice, I didn't use French this time. But lots of German : ) I don't like it in an English movie when two people from another country speak... English... (or in a German movie, when two French/English/whatever characters speak German), so..._

_And I've decided with a little help of my beta: the whole story takes place in 1964. Medic should be 38 now, and Sniper 42._

_Some facts about this chapter:_  
><em>I know Medic is from Stuttgart, but I wanted Hamburg. I love Hamburg. I'll explain how they get there later. Large parts of the town were destroyed during WW2, but Blankenese, an upper class district, wasn't. The Strandhotel does exist, and I wanna spend a few days there ^^ (ffnet doesn't allow me to post the link, in case you are curious, google "Blankenese Hamburg Strandhotel")<em>  
><em>Of course there were British soldiers (even a British HQ from what I read), but life was rather normal there.<em>

_Conti did exist, Leonardo Conti, Reichs Health Leader, that's a fact. He had three daughters, another fact. But he died 1945 and there's not much known about the girls. He was dislikable, and wouldn't have survived the Doctors' Trails anyway._

_Doing research for this chapter sure was depressing._

_And in case you wish for some culture, here's the play they watched, English subs included, it was performed at that time, and even the actor was active then xD watch?v=Mcowjpu8qI0_


	16. Chapter 16

_[author's note] translations at the bottom [/author's note]_

**Snowbowl 16 – Catch 22**

The detonation of the modified sticky bombs was far behind the force they usually contained. Five normal stickies would have shredded at least half of the wagon to pieces, and have torn their bodies to smithereens. From the opposite half of the compartment Demo sighed with relief as a cloud of smoke engulfed them, smoke rich with the familiar taste and scent of sulfur and saltpeter. His comrades behind him coughed, the stuffy air burning in their lungs, while he enjoyed every breath of it, a very rewarding feeling, his intuition hadn't failed him, he still was the best Demoman, probably better than ever. Just a few alterations, guided by experience, knowledge and a nose sensitive for explosive components, it didn't need more for him to alter his beloved little bombs. A powerful, intoxicating feeling, success or failure, safety or a death so sudden and fierce that it would simply have erased them from the surface of this planet.

"Dun't mess with me, yer dunderheads..."

The vanishing fume brought him back to reality, the obstacle in front of them had disappeared, only leaving a sharp-edged hole in the otherwise intact wall. A perfect result.

"Let's give them hell, boys" the Soldier, standing next to him, hissed, still coughing. Right on cue they broke loose from their position, and rushed towards the new opened way, led by Soldier and Demoman. The two men were the first to spot what enfolded behind the gone door – a small passage connecting the wagons, like theirs with the second, leading to a door wider than the one they had just blown up, and there -

"HALT!" With a shout Solider stopped abruptly, Demo right next to him, both almost knocked over by Pyro and the Engineer who were pressed against their backs by Heavy. "HALT!" repeated the Russian, to alert the Medic and Scout behind him, who stood still at once.

"'ats 'rong, 'ats 'appnin 'ere?" Pyro tried to look past the two large men in front of him.

Heavy alone almost blocked the narrow path all by himself, shielding Scout's view with his massive body.

Medic, a bit taller than the Scout, leaned over Heavy's shoulder, adjusted his glasses and made a frustrated sound.

"Fuck." he could hear the Engineer curse, who, as well as the Pyro next to him, shoved his head between Soldier and Demoman.

"Well, it was about time, my friends. You made me wait for quite a while, I'm disappointed. My time is precious, you know." A shark-like, greasy smile.

"Smith." Soldier growled at the man facing them from the entrance of the next wagon. "You expected us."

"Of course I did, dear Soldier. But like most human beings even I err. I thought I would have the pleasure to greet you here sooner. How impolite to let me..." At a wave of his hand several guards joined him, one at both of his sides, about three or four more behind him. "me and my friends wait."

x x x x

"Aaah!" A loud cry of frustration and anger uttered by the man as he hit the ground, his wrath intensified by the jubilant laughter of his opponent. This was the third time the Sniper had tackled him and actually thrown him down. Again he kicked him into the stomach, the force pushing this idiot back, but it didn't seem to impress him, as his punches hadn't impressed him before or when his fingers had dug into the bleeding wounds of his leg.

"You... gonna... die..." he snarled, pulling one of the pistols he had hidden under his coat. The other guns were scattered in the sand, out of reach.

Sniper laughed again, happy, joyous. This was so easy, he didn't even feel angry anymore with the man he had pushed into the dirt, how could he?

"Die? Come on, ah ain't gonna die, why should I?" He grinned, stretching his arms. This fight was so relaxing, his muscles worked with ease, as he listened how his own blood rushed through his ears. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so energetic, life was great! Once the warm, burning pain the shot had caused in his arm was gone, the world belonged to him, how could he ever doubt the outcome of this encounter? The night was almost over, as he could see the other gunman without any limitations, he could easily watch the muscles twitch under the scarred skin of his disgusting face, what a clear day! The colors seemed a bit too bright, though, and it was true, his range of vision wasn't as good as before – the peripheral areas were oddly blurry, but who gave a damn? Right now, he had the feeling he was zooming in with his rifle only – he didn't even need a rifle or a sightcope, never again!

He jumped at the gunman's arm and before he could pull the trigger, Sniper had snatched the weapon from his hand and, with another deep but happy laugh, he threw it away, out of sight, not even noticing the blow when his enraged opponent hit his neck with his elbow.

x x x x

"What's goin' on there?" Scout, fed up with not being able to see anything at all, had simply decided to climb the Heavy's back, now leaning on the broad shoulder, supported by his arms, his feet dangling in the air. Medic, not that much smaller than the Russian, was satisfied with the view he had when he stood on his toes and looked over his teammate's other shoulder, leaning against his back.

"Smizh... zhat's vhat's going on zhere." he stated rather dryly.

"No shit, Sherlock..." Scout retorted.

"Shht! Or down I throw you both."

Scout and Medic decided not to push the matter, instead, they tried to listen to the words spoken.

"I thought I would have the pleasure to meet you sooner." they could here Smith say, in his usual arrogant, attitudinized manner. Several men joined him, like they were building a line of defense, ready to protect their master in case he would give a signal. For now, they stood still like statues, stiff and austere.

"Strange men they are..." Heavy muttered.

"Yeah, lika bunch of tin soldiers." Scout whispered. "Somethin's odd with them."

"Hm." The German nodded in agreement. Those guards, something was strange about them he had to agree, but what could it be... Then he realized.

"Zhey look very much alike, don't zhey?" he asked with a low voice, not addressing anyone in particular.

"Now that ya mention it, Doc... could be half a dozen of twins..." Scout stretched his neck to gain a better view and almost fell of the shoulder.

"Ja, and it's not just the clozhes..." He looked at the faces as closely as he could from his position. No, they were not twins, triplets or anything like that, their faces were not identical, that was obvious, even from this distance. But besides their identical dark-gray clothes and hats there was something strange about their demeanor, more than mere discipline and drill. Their expressions were identical, in their eyes and faces. They moved in almost identical ways, if two of them turned to the side, at different times, it was like watching the repetition of the same move, only executed by another body. And even if their faces were not identical, all of them were of a similar physique. He wouldn't have been surprised if they even spoke with the same intonation. To watch them was disturbing.

A nervous clicking sound averted his attention. Pyro, still caught between Heavy and Soldier and Demo, played with his flamethrower, the young man was eager to act, Medic could tell from his posture. Heavy stood like a boulder, not moving one muscle, while the Engineer seemed calm as well, but his good hand twitched, touching again and again the hilt of his shotgun, betraying his restlessness, as he knew he couldn't handle the weapon right now. Scout still hung over the Russian's shoulder, fidgeting, like a nervous cat.

His eyes wandered to the two men at the head of their party, Demo and Soldier, both tensed and ready to launch an attack.

"Well, maggot," he heard the Soldier bark in his usual commanding voice, "as we have arrived to your nice little tea party now, kindly tell us the intention behind your invitation. WHAT THE HELL DO YOU SCHEME YOU LITTLE SON OF A BITCH?"

"My, how pushy. Do I look like one of your little subordinates to you? My dear Soldier, no, that's not the way to ask a man like me, not in your position." He shook his blonde head. "But don't fret, my friend, even if you worded your nice little question in a more pleasant way, I wouldn't give you the answer now. I would hate to spoil this little adventure for you. Maybe, if you survive..."

The sound of the spinning mini-gun interrupted his speech.

"You can't fire zhat zhing now, idiot, do you vant to turn zhem into sieves?" Medic hissed to the Russian.

"That I know." Heavy growled back. "Not stupid I am. But..."

A wide, grim smile appeared on the Medics face as he reached for the saw at the belt under his coat, even if it was pointless right now. "I understand zhat."

"SHUT UP MONKEY BOY!" Soldier shouted, even drowning the ear-shattering noise of Heavy's weapon. The veteran had already shifted to a steady position, as he lifted his rocket launcher, Demo started to grin, his good eye flashing, as he picked two stickies from his cartridge belt.

The guards didn't flinch or change their stance. With indifferent eyes they watched the men readying their weapons, neither scared, alarmed or in any way impressed.

"To hell with the answer! Don't give me that shit! Tell me one motherfucking good reason why we shouldn't turn you into a bloody pulp even your drag queen of a mother wouldn't identify as her bastard son!" The Soldier was boiling mad now, only too eager to attack, hell-bent not to let Smith get the better of him, may it be with his words or any means of assault.

But he didn't fail to see the amused glance flickering in the man's eyes. For a second, all of them felt a pang of insecurity. This wasn't good, this was the premonition that something was about to go terribly wrong now. They didn't have to wait for much longer - Smith turned to one of the men behind him and gave him a silent signal.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, my friend." His aloof smile turned into a sardonic grin, he was enjoying himself tremendously.

"Guess what we found only a little while ago. Greet my guest of honor, my friends, I think you've seen him before."

The two men next to him retreated, and as Smith took a step to the side, another guard joined him, dragging a lifeless body with him. He threw him to the ground where he, facing the floor, lay still and silent.

They all held their breath in horror.

"Spy..." Soldier whispered.

x x x x

"Stupid, impertinent bastard." he snarled, wiping his face with his sleeve. He detested the taste of blood on his lips, and the pain where the Sniper had hit his nose was most irritating. How could this inept nuisance gather so much endurance anyway?

The Australian had received his share of blows; dirt and blood covered his clothes. There had to be about a dozen of bullets in his leg, he was bleeding from his mouth and a cut on the side of his head. He breathed heavily, his muscles trembled, he certainly looked exhausted, but he just didn't behave that way! This idiot was still laughing and grinning.

This was very confusing and absolutely not according to his plan. But he wasn't finished yet. "Try and ignore the brawl, but I doubt you can ignore another bullet." he hissed, reaching for his last gun. Quick enough this time, opposed to the last attempts to shoot the Sniper, he could finally fire the pistol.

Sniper saw the bullet coming. 'Uh, guess ah ain't dodging this one, too bad.'

Nevertheless, he tried to throw himself to the side, away from the line of fire, but his eyes and ears told him it was futile this time.

x x x x x

"He can't be dead..." Engineer mumbled, still stunned. The lean masked man on the floor didn't stir. "He just can't be..."

"Shuddap! 'course he ain't!" Demo snapped, equally shocked.

"Spy..." Scout's face was pale, his eyes terrified. Yet he was unable to move, his whole body paralyzed, his head empty of all thoughts, only mixed emotions of hate, fear, horror and the suffocating feel of loss remained.

"Ah, don't worry, my friends. He's well and alive. Okay," Smith kneeled beside the Spy's body, grabbed the collar of his suit and turned him on his side, his head now facing the team's direction. His eyes were closed, his mouth covered with duct tape."Maybe not so well." he snickered. "Come on, Monsieur Spy, don't you want to greet your friends?" Smirking, he slapped the French's cheek.

Spy gave a muffled, pained groan, his eyelids twitched for a moment, when he finally, very slowly, opened his eyes. His gaze was empty, unfocused.

There was something strange, though, as the Medic noticed. But he was still too far away to figure out what it was. Anyway, the Spy's condition was alarming, he wondered how they could have caught him... then another thought hit him! If they got Spy...

'Sniper...'

He gulped, his body tensed and he was about to raise his voice, when Heavy turned his head and looked at him.

"Careful we must be." he whispered insistently. "When not caught he was they might not know. Not alarm them we must! If they know, danger there is!" Medic could see the Russian was as worried as anybody else. He closed his mouth and bit his tongue. Heavy was right, don't give the enemy more information than necessary. It was likely that Sniper and Spy went separate ways once they found entrance into one of the compartments, after all, their styles of fighting and hunting were different. 'Vho cares. He's big enough to take care of himself.'

For now, the fact that Spy was alive mattered. Heavy and Medic looked at Scout. The boy was still white as a wall, his face frozen.

"Well, I think that settles it." Spy had closed his eyes again, Smith let go of him as he stood up, with a thud the limb body hit the floor again.

This was too much.

"MOTHERFUCKING BASTARD!" Scout yelled all of a sudden, causing everyone to start at the loud, angry, desperate sound. "I GONNA RIP YA LUNGS OUT AND STUFF THEM INTO YA BIG SHIT FAT HEAD MOUTH! LET HIM GO!"

His feet didn't have any hold so his attempt to jump over Heavy failed, he more or less fell to the ground, but got up again at once, ready to leap over the others, ready to fight his way through the men. At any cost.

"'ONT!" Pyro planted himself in front of the boy, obstructing the way. "'IS 'IS S'CIDE!"

"Right he is." Heavy growled, finally reacting, and seized the Scout before he could push the smaller man aside. "You stay, leetle man! Save with us!"

"Let go, let me go, fat ass!" Scout struggled and tried to kick the Heavy. "Gotta do somethin'! Anythin'! Bastards, goddamned motherfuckin' assholes, how could you... how could you..." His voice broke, but he still tried to free himself, deaf to reasoning words, his face still colorless, despite the wrath in his eyes. Finally Pyro ended his fight by slapping his face. Scout halted at once, remaining motionless in Heavy's grip, staring at Pyro with a mixture of disbelief and anger.

"'m 'rry..." the masked man muttered. "I..."

"It's okay, Pyro." Engineer patted him on the back. "He didn't mean ta hurt ya, got it, son? Ya mean well, but ya not helpin' nobody here if ya snap, got it?" His voice was strict, but friendly. Scout's face burned where the gloved hand had hit him, the skin glowing red now, but he could feel how his brain started to work again. He nodded.

"Do not worry, boy." Soldier's words were surprisingly gentle and understanding. What happened to the boy was what he feared to happen over and over again. But to himself. Every time when his level of adrenaline raised there was this fear to lose control of his sanity. "We get him back, we find a way. No man left behind, understand?"

The Scout nodded again.

"Then say it!" the Soldier demanded.

The boy blinked, and finally spoke, his voice low and unhopeful. "No man left behind."

"Good, very good." Soldier smiled at him.

"Oh, you!" Smith clapped his hands, faking a sob. "Isn't that the most touching scene? What loyal friends you have, Monsieur Spy, aren't you pleased." He looked down at the man at his feet and gave him a push with his foot. "Oh." He exclaimed. "He didn't listen to you."

"Sick dickhead." Demo cursed. "Me should..."

"Should, schmould, save your speech for later. Because, my friends..." He waved at the men again. At once, without a change in the expression on his face, one stepped forward and dragged the Spy away. "Because now I will take a break. Thank you for the amusing little show. I'm going to leave you alone for a while."

x x x x

He was in the greatest of all moods. This night was getting better and better, not only had his strength increased, he was swifter than he had ever been before. Just a few seconds ago he had accepted the fact to be shot, but the flesh tearing impact never happened. Tonight he could dodge anything! He wiped his wet hand on his pants.

"Are you even too stupid to die, damned Sniper?" the angry voice of the strange man shouted. Sniper smiled at him.

"Nah. Ya gotta hurt me first, why ain't ya gonna start to fight me, mate?"

"This is ridiculous." The man rolled his eyes and lifted his gun again. The last bullet should finish this unpleasing business, but Sniper guessed the move, and, laughingly, he jumped at him once more, his fist hitting the nose of the man again, the sickening sound of a breaking bone was followed by a high-pitched, angry scream. He took a step back and watched the guy go down on his knees, his hands covering his face, blood spluttering down.

"You are going to regret this!" He spit out some of the blood that was running into his mouth while speaking. "I'm going to tear you apart, you and your darn friends, you will beg me to finish them off quickly, I..."

But Sniper wasn't listening. Oh yes, the others. The train. Will. Spy probably had informed them by now, he should better hurry back before they worried too much about him. After all, this went better than expected, he felt great.

"HEY! Listen to me, you simpleton!"

x x x x

Another guard took the place next to Smith and pushed something at the wall. A loud, crunching noise, followed by a rattling, shaking vibration mixed with Smith's laughter as suddenly the connection between the compartments was broken off.

Instantly, Soldier and Demo dashed towards the edge of the wagon, ready to jump, but Smith sneered at them.

"If you don't want me to cut your French buddy's throat, you don't do that." He answered their loathing stares with one of his smiles. "Good boys. Don't worry, we will take good care of your friend. Bye bye, my friends, bye bye. Maybe we will meet again."

"Don't let them go! We can't let this asshole get away with that!" Scout had taken up his struggle again, although less forcefully now.

"Zhere's nozhing ve can do now, Scout. Do not vorry, ve vill find a way." Medic almost mechanically repeated Soldier's words, his face showing as much worry as anybody else's. With two men missing, they had to stay calm, no matter what, even if they had to give them up... but he pushed the thought away. They hadn't come this far, survived so many dangers to simply lose Spy and Sniper now just like that. He was alright, had to be.

"Let's go back to our base." Soldier ordered. "We will discuss our next step asap."

They didn't ask since when the first compartment became a base, it didn't matter. The sooner they came up with something the better. First of all, they had to be careful, obviously there were some more unpleasant surprises in store for them, otherwise this whole affair wouldn't make sense at all. What was Smith plotting?

But this had to wait, they had to find and free their comrades, no matter what, and they had to avoid more losses.

"Let's hope that darn Sniper's save." Engineer stared gravely at the hole in the ceiling. "Ah wish ah knew if we'd ta free him's well or what his move is."

"He's probably somewhere in the train, lazily waiting in some corner for someone to shoot." Soldier growled at the feeble try to cheer himself up. Things weren't looking too good now. Smith had awaited them, like he had known when and how they'd strike. He easily got hold of Spy, who usually was rather evasive. Sniper could be anywhere, dead, caught, injured, alive, aware of what happened or clueless. The disconnected compartments had quickly slowed down, in a few minutes they would strand in the desert – again. There was no way they could catch up with the train. Or was there?

Seven men sat there, brooding, mulling over their options. Only a few words were spoken, most of them reassuring, careful to avoid pointing at their fears. They better came up with something fast, it certainly wasn't a good idea to leave Sniper and Spy alone with Smith and his strange guards, caught or not caught.

"G'day mates, hey, what's with the long faces, eh?" Cheerfully, Sniper jumped through the hole from above, landing not all too gracefully on the carpet. He stood up and grinned at them.

The men stared at him.

"What's wrong?" he laughed. "Ya missed me?"

"What the fuck... where did YOU come from?" Soldier was positively flabbergasted, being such a strange sight that occurred to Sniper to be very amusing. He roared with laughter.

"And vhat zhe hell happened to you?"

Otherwise, they were speechless.

All of a sudden, the Australian was back. He looked terrible. The left leg of his pants was dark with blood, his shirt torn and dirty and sprinkled with blood as well. His right shoulder was bleeding from an even fresher wound, the whole arm trembling. He seemed to be covered in cuts and bruises, his cheek slightly swollen, his grin uncovered red teeth, the voice more hoarse than ever.

"Zhis means graveyard-shift for me I zhink." Medic tried to maintain a grim expression when he stood up. "Unglaublich. How can you still stand at all in a condition like zhis?" Sniper's grin changed into a happy smile.

"Will, thank ya, I dunno what this magic potion was, but it sure's quite some stuff! I knew you like me!"

"Vhat zhe...? Hast Du komplett den Verstand verloren, you idiot?" was all Medic could gasp - Sniper fell around his neck and before the German could continue his protest, he kissed him, unaware of the clueless, staggered faces around them.

x x x x to be continued x x x x x x

_Okay, here are the translations, fortunately we can keep this short this time ^^_

_Pyro:_  
><em>"'ats 'rong, 'ats 'appnin 'ere?" = "What's wrong, what's happening there?"<em>

_"'ONT! 'IS 'IS S'CIDE!" = Don't! This is suicide!_

_"'m 'rry..." = I'm sorry_

_Medic:_  
><em>Unglaublich. = unbelievable or incredible (he could mean both here)<em>

_Hast Du komplett den Verstand verloren, = "Are you off your head/have you totally lost it? Are you out of your mind?_

_At __least __I __upload__ one __chapter__ each__ week...__well...__I __wish __I__ weren't__ that __lazy,__ sorry..._

_I realized __something__-__ I__ don't__like__ Smith._

_Well..._

_actually...__I__ don't__ have __much __to __say __about __this__chapter._

_I'm__ happy __about__ every__ returning __or__ new __reader,__ thank__ you__:)_


	17. Chapter 17

_[author's note] translation at the bottom [/author's note]**  
><strong>_

**Snowbowl 17 – Hurt & Heal**

It was good to be back. He held him closer and ignored the struggle. He knew he'd like it, as he had back in the cave this night so many days ago. And this time he would make sure not to have it end with a broken rib. He smelled so nice. Yes, it was good to be back.

"Ouch, verdammter..." Medic pushed the Sniper away, feeling for his lips with his hand when he tasted blood. He twitched at the pain when he touched the small cut in his bottom lip.

"Did you bite... no, vait. Hold still, idiot. Lässt Du das sein!" He kept the Australian at his arm's length before he could hug him again and reached for his face, shoving the man's upper lip aside.

"Great. You've a broken toozh. How on earzh did you do zhat? No, stop zhis!" Sniper had seized him by his wrist and was about to drag him closer once more.

"Ah, c'me on, Will, it ain't that bad, can deal with that later..."

Medic wondered if he should just push him away or punch him first, especially when he heard the suppressed laughter and giggles behind his back. This whole situation was really bothersome, and it wouldn't be an easy task to deal with the Sniper's injuries as long as he was in this state, if he only listened to him... Something must have been wrong with the formula, he wondered which component was responsible for this unpleasant reaction. Fortunately it wasn't a complete failure, otherwise Sniper wouldn't have returned. Still there was fresh blood seeping through the fabric of the torn and dirty shirt. He had to attend to those wounds quickly before the man's condition changed for the worst...

"Ahem, I hate to disturb your little reunion..." Soldier cleared his throat. "BUT WOULD YOU KINDLY EXPLAIN WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED? Medic, what is he talking about, what did you give him?"

"Could you just keep your hands by yourself for a second, Du Volltrottel? Zhank you..." At least he gained enough space between them to turn around and face the Soldier, but Sniper obviously didn't intent to leave him alone for a moment. Instead, he put one arm around the Medic's neck and leaned against his back, one hand ruffling through the German's hair. Demoman was holding his sides by now, fighting hard not to burst with laughter.

"Zhis is..." Medic sighed and gave up for now. "I apologize, Herr Soldier... I gave him some medicine I vas experimenting vizh... it enhances zhe senses and blocks zhe nociceptors and zhe forvarding of pain stimuli from zhe spinal cord to zhe brain.. uh, he can't feel pain... an effect zhat is very distressing at zhis moment..." he explained while shoving the Sniper's head away from his throat.

This was too much for Demoman. He cracked up with laughter until tears came to his eyes and let himself fall onto one of the chairs.

"Aye, ye forgot one more side-effect, Medic." He slapped on his knee while trying to catch his breath. "The lad suffers from hallucinations, seems to mistake ye for a lovely nurse!" Now the others didn't hold back anymore as well. Even Soldier couldn't hide a grin, and some color returned to the Scout's face when he joined the laughter.

"Anyway." Soldier coughed, trying to keep his composure. "He's back and obviously alive, as we can see. Was this... behaviour... planned?" This made Demo roar even louder.

"Of course not." Medic growled. "Probably anozher side-effect, spontaneous and mental enfeeblement. Could someone PLEASE get zhis idiot off me before I break him anozher rib! … Ähm... " He bit his tongue, but too late. Soldier stared at him suspiciously.

"Medic, it seems to me like we are in need of a serious conversation. And I want answers, no excuses. But for now..." He and Heavy both seized Sniper by his arms and dragged him away from the German. "For now do your best and patch our love-struck puppy here up as soon as possible. After all, we have to discuss really serious matters now."

"Ja, Soldier..."

x x x x x

"Vell... do I have everyzhing I need..." He pushed his glasses up and rubbed his eyes. Why did everything have to turn out so annoying? Of course he was glad that he wasn't dead. But from all possible effects this had to happen, an over-euphoric Sniper who cared even less than before for consequences. In front of all of them... He couldn't await the moment when his perception of pain came back. Grimly muttering to himself he returned to the small conference room. The light was better there, so it would be easier to tend to the Sniper's wounds.

"Sniper. You sit still and listen to the Medic, do you understand?" he could hear Soldier say when he entered the room. The Australian sat on one of the large foldout armchairs that Pyro and Demoman had brought from the first wagon. The table was covered with many of the Medic's instruments, bandages and tissues.

"If you don't follow my or his orders," the Soldier continued, "I will have you restrained to this very chair, got it? Medic..." He turned around, his voice sounding unnerved and impatient. "This mess is your fault, don't you have a medicine that makes him listen to reason?"

The German looked at the grinning Sniper for a moment before he answered. "Yes, Herr Soldier, I just might have zhe zhing for zhis." Without much ado he took a glass filled with water from the table and emptied it out over the Sniper's head.

"What the... are ya stupid ya bloody mongrel?" the Australian protested against this treatment and wiped the water from his face, but his eyes finally lost their absent gaze and focused.

"Du mich auch, Sniper. I zhink it is okay now, Soldier." he addressed the veteran. "I vill call you if I have to have him restrained."

"Good." Soldier still was skeptical. "I can't leave Pyro with you this time, with the two of you and the missing Spy we are three man short, that's bad enough. Call if something is wrong."

"Yes. Zhank you."

Demo gave him a nudge when he was leaving. "Time for some... private... examination, eh?"

"Demoman! Come with me right now!"

"Idiots. I'm surrounded by idiots." Medic sighed and sat down on a chair between the Sniper and the table.

" Why the angry face? What's wrong, Will?" The Australian's voice was still far too happy, considering the circumstances and the state his body was in, but he sounded somewhat sober compared to before.

"Everyzhing. But let's talk about zhat later. You really don't feel anyzhing?" he inquired while he checked the wound at the shoulder.

"Whaddya mean? And what are ya doin' there anyway?"

"Can't you really feel any pain? Are you sick? Tired? Please sit up and get out of zhe shirt." Indeed, this looked like a bullet hole. This man was shot in the shoulder, but didn't even react when he pressed his finger against the flesh.

"Eh? Changed ya mind?" He grinned and pulled the shirt over his head, moving his right arm with apparent ease.

"Just for your information, you have a bullet sticking in your body and I vant to get it out. So don't get zhe vrong idea. Lie back again, zhat's better." He pushed the Sniper's upper body against the chair back to get a better sight at the injury. The bleeding had finally stopped and he hoped he could get hold of the bullet and close the wound before this man lost too much blood. Another thing bothered him. The effect of the medicine could wear off anytime, and he couldn't treat his patient with another painkiller, risking an interaction of the two drugs was dangerous, and the Sniper's body was weak now, even if he wasn't aware of it. But when the pain returned while he was treating him...

"I better start vizh your teezh, zhose should be zhe nastiest. Zhe sooner I'm done vizh zhem zhe better..." he said more to himself than to Sniper, and shoved his chair closer to the man's head. "Open your mouzh please."

"Why are you doin' that?"

"Zhis vasn't an invitation to talk, I vant to see your teezh, so vould you..."

But Sniper shook his head.

"They are fine. I mean, why do ya push me away?"

Medic rolled his eyes. "I don't believe zhis... Don't you idiot understand you have a bullet in your shoulder, more in your leg and at least one broken toozh? Can't you forget for one moment..."

"No, I can't and don't wanna." Sniper lifted his hand and touched the Medic's face who pulled away at once.

"And I don't vant zhis." He could feel how his cheeks turned warm and red again while he looked at the Sniper's shoulder. "I told you I don't like it vhen you touch me..."

"That's a lie, Will, and you know that. Otherwise," he grinned and put his hand on the Medic's upper leg. "Otherwise ya hadn't got off that easily back in Dustbowl, right?"

The German's back stiffened and he blushed even more.

"You are right, your teezh are fine. I start vizh your leg." He moved the chair far enough away to be out of the reach of the Sniper's arms when he realized he didn't have access to the wounds just like that. "Take off your pants... please, don't grin like zhat. Let me do my job or I call Soldier..."

"Don't be shy, ya can look." Sniper teased him while he pushed down his jeans and let them drop onto the floor next to his shirt. "Like what ya see?"

"Is zhere any chance you could stop zhat?"

The Australian pretended to think about that question for a moment.

"No." he finally answered. "Well, maybe..." he added. "Hey, let's make a deal. I won't interrupt ya if ya..." His smile widened as he placed his injured leg on the Medic's lap.

"I don't know if I vant to hear zhis..."

"C'me on, don't be a drag. I'm gonna let ya do ya job." He shifted to a more comfortable position and relaxed, stretching his arms before he crossed them behind his head. "And ya kiss me when ya done. What ya sayin'?"

Medic stared at him for a moment, speechless.

"I should amputate zhis leg of yours right here and right now. It's too long anyvay." he finally answered, pressing his hands against the sore skin, but of course the Sniper didn't react to this.

"Ya noticed, eh? Handsome, ain't they? Met some ladies who quite were in love with them." He stretched the mentioned body parts and put them down again.

"Shut up now." Medic ignored the last remark and started to remove the small pellets from the flesh with a long pair of forceps. He didn't even try to be careful, Sniper wouldn't feel it anyway, and even if he did...

"So we have a deal?"

"I said shut up." His annoyance showed clearly in his face and his voice, it even reached the Sniper's awareness, although he still was rather euphoric.

"I really hope some of zhem stick in zhe bone..." Medic muttered to himself while Sniper watched him how he pulled out one small piece of lead after another. The tiny bullets made a clicking sound whenever one landed on the floor, leaving a small, red mark.

"I really had forgotten about them..." the Australian finally said, disliking the silence. "This wanka, first he said he'd let me go, then he shot me..." he continued when Medic didn't answer.

At this, the German raised his head.

"Vhat happened to you anyway? Suddenly you jumped down from zhe roof, covered in blood... how did zhis happen?" Another bullet rolled over the floor.

Sniper scratched his head. "It's kinda fuzzy in mah brain... this asshole hunted me, my rifle... yeah, it was broken... he told me to go, then he shot and we fought..." He shook his head and narrowed his eyes. "Why the heck can't I remember..."

"Probably because of zhe medicine. Or because you are an idiot after all. How could he hunt you?" This was an odd story, he still couldn't put the pieces together and fully understand how the man could have been attacked like this.

"I'm not as stupid as you seem to think, Will." Sniper answered calmly.

"Zhen don't behave like zhat. How could he hunt you, you vere on the train vith..." He stopped in mid-sentence. Spy! He had almost forgot about him. Maybe he knew how the French could have been caught.

"I... don't really know... we were on the roof... then I was in the damn desert, without a workin' rifle or mah hat and things were gettin' out of hand..."

"Vait, you fell off zhe train? Vhat about Spy? How? How far vhere you away? And how could you catch up vizh us?" Medic interrupted in astonishment. This story was getting weirder by the minute.

Sniper leaned back and looked at the ceiling, trying to concentrate. "Spook said he'd call help. Think I stumbled..." He closed his eyes. "The moon... boulders... scars, he had scars, all over his face... his weapons... yeah, I threw his gun away, and then... I ran, followed the rails... then I was back and saw ya. I was really glad to see ya, ya know."

"Vhatever. I zhink I finally get zhe idea how you ended up like zhis. Please lift your leg a bit, I vant to bandage it." Fortunately the small bullets didn't do much harm. They neither were very deep in the flesh nor did they damage the bone or severed any sinew or muscles. Mere flesh wounds, they would heal fast. "Zhere. Let me have anozher look at zhe shoulder." He shoved the limb from his lap, but instead of putting it down, Sniper wrapped it around Medic, who was caught between the two legs now.

"I zhought you remembered you vere hurt. Could you please let me finish zhis and stop being a stupid horny bastard for a vhile longer?" he complained, his blood-smeared hands resting on the healthy leg that lay on his lap now.

"As much as I like ya position now and as happy I'm to be back with ya, sorry, I'm not horny. And I'm not a bastard..."

"Ja sicher. But you are stupid after all and a liar." He focused his eyes on his hands and pulled them away when he realized where he had put them.

"Wil'em, I have no idea what ya talkin' about."

"My name is Wilhelm and I'm talking about _that._" He nodded at the Sniper's hips. Sniper looked down his body and smiled. Indeed, his underwear couldn't cover up certain facts.

"Guess ya right, well, I'm not surprised. But..." His smile froze on his face and disappeared completely, giving way for a more confused expression. "I can see it, but why don't I feel anythin'? Will, what the fuck was in that cocktail?" His almost scared voice amused Medic. So the manly hunter suddenly felt his manliness threatened? This was funny. He chuckled.

"This is NOT funny!" Sniper glared at him, guessing his thoughts.

"You really... don't feel anyzhing zhere?" Now Medic grinned, and Sniper didn't like this kind of grin at all. Calling it wicked would be like calling the sun a candle. Usually, the Medic showed this grin on the battlefield, when he had successfully fought back an enemy in close combat. With his scalpel or saw...

"No... ah don't..." he replied hesitantly.

"Even... vhen I do _zhis_?" All of a sudden, he lay his right hand on the grey fabric, letting his fingers slide down the bulge.

"What the fuck, NO! And why... I thought..." Sniper stammered, surprised and perplexed so he couldn't even move.

"Zhought I vas scared? Oh please, Herr Sniper, I am a doctor after all. Zhis is nozhing more zhan a body part to me." He closed his hand as far around it as the fabric would allow. "Nozhing different zhan your leg. Or arm or even heart. No, even less, you know, zhere aren't even muscles... not very scary if you ask me." Again he chuckled at the Sniper's bewilderment. This was worth it. Otherwise he wouldn't... of course not. He got up from his seat, not letting go, and pushed the Australian even deeper in the upholstery of the chair, his face now close to Sniper's ear. His own body weight added to the pressure of his hand.

"And you really don't feel it? Oh, isn't zhat disastrous? I almost feel sorry for you, Nicholas."

"Goddamned WILL!" his voice desperate now, he seized the Medic's shoulders. "Why can't I... What the fuck have ya done to me? Get this fuckin' poison out of my body, NOW!" he shouted. Of course he felt the closeness. But he neither felt the pressure of the touch nor the expected sensation in his groin or head.

"Calm down. It's okay." The German withdrew both hands and turned back to his chair. Without looking at the Sniper he positioned the furniture closer to the man's upper body. "It's anozher side-effect. Your body reacts to zhe stimuli, but zhe sensation isn't transmitted to your central nervous system and zherefore not to your brain, zhat's all. Even if you don't feel a cut, zhe blood knows it has to coagulate, zhe cells have to reproduce and heal you vizhout you noticing zhe injury at all right now. It's zhe same vizh arousal, obviously."

"I hope for ya that's true." Sniper sighed. "Could ya stop talkin' about it that matter-of-factly like it doesn't mean anything to ya at all?" he grumbled.

"Zhat's because it doesn't." He had started to feel for the bullet. It was convenient he didn't have to take care to be careful, this one stuck rather deep and the wound had started to bleed again.

"Yeah, right ya shammer. That's why ya face is red like a tomato... hey, what was that?" Sniper flinched. Then it was gone again.

"It's not...! Hm? Vhat's vhat?" he interrupted himself.

"Dunno. Felt like a sting, but it's stopped..."

"Shoulder?"

"Yeah."

"Vell... seems to be your happy day, zhe medicine stops vorking now, as you vished... Let me finish zhis quickly." Finally the forceps took hold of the bullet, but when he pulled, they slid off again. "Zhis von't do. Sorry, I have to make a cut." He reached behind him, taking one of his scalpels from the table, studying the sharp edge as it reflected the light of the lamp. Then he took a small bottle and put it in the pocket of his labcoat. Sniper watched him skeptically.

"What's in that thing?" He nodded at the little flask.

"Nozhing zhat vill harm you, don't vorry." Medic reassured him, although Sniper couldn't really believe him. "Trust me. You lost a lot of blood, zhis vill only clean zhe wound speedup zhe blood clotting once I'm done, before I put on zhe pressure bandage."

"If you say so..." He wasn't completely convinced yet, but hadn't much of a choice anyway. "Ouch. Hey, I did feel that!" Was this a reason to be glad or rather not, given the circumstances?

"See, I told you." Medic had lowered the blade and made a clean cut where he assumed the bullet to be. "Hold still, please." He worked quickly and concentrated, and once his tool got a firm hold of the round he could remove it easily. He threw both, bullet and forceps, on the table and pressed the flesh together with one hand while he uncorked the bottle and poured its content over the wound. The empty item landed on the floor.

"Will..." Sniper's voice sounded weak.

"Hm?" he replied, not really paying attention as he quickly pushed a needle through the flesh, pulling on the thread to fix it in place. This would leave a bigger scar than it would have when treated under better conditions, but he didn't have a choice now, he did the best he could.

"This really starts hurtin' now..."

"Don't be a baby." Medic wavered between worry and glee. "It serves you right after all. Vell, done." He looked at the dressed-up wound. The fabric turned red, but this stopped soon.

"Are you done?" Sniper asked, flinching. He didn't feel good. Somehow his head was getting heavy and his mind started to spin. He didn't really feel a pain in his face, but a dull throbbing.

"Not yet. Zhe real fun begins now." Medic grinned at him grimly. "Don't make such a face, I vas looking forward to zhis. Vell, seriously. Zhis is going to be tough, Nicholas." He sat down on the broad arm-rest and took the Sniper's face in his hand. "Let me have a look, okay?"

The Australian nodded and opened his mouth, albeit reluctantly. Medic's thump glided over his upper row of teeth.

"I'm neizher a dentist nor do I have the proper equipment here. Ah zhere, your upper right eye tooth vas splintered, zhat's vhat cut me before. No, don't speak, it's okay. It's not zhat bad, I can grind it off. Vhat really vorries me... zhe premolar toozh next to it... zhere's a deep crack up to zhe gum, and a piece of it has been broken off..." He let go and Sniper closed his mouth, looking at him.

"What does that mean?"

"I have to draw it out." Medic stated, not being all too relaxed now. "Zhis vill make a mess..." he sighed.

"Ya gonna pull out my tooth? And talkin' about the mess? Are you crazy? Ouch..." Sniper twitched when his tongue accidentally touched the sharp edges in his mouth. A short, stinging pain flashed past his eye right into his brain. "No way around it?"

"I'm afraid not." Medic shrugged. "Let's get it over vizh. Here, hold zhis." He took a bowl from the table and put it on Sniper's stomach.

"Urgh, that's cold..."

"Good, so zhis is returning, too." Medic smiled, more delighted than Sniper thought appropriate concerning the situation.

"What is this for?"

"Please sit up a bit more straight. Good. As I said, I do not have professional equipment for zhis. Zhere's no medical suction device, so vhen zhere's too much blood in your mouth, kindly spit it out. " He searched for another, a smaller, scalpel and chose a less filigree pair of tongs while he spoke.

Sniper's face contorted in disgust.

"That's nasty."

"Yes, and necessary. If you svallow too much of your blood, it vill upset your stomach and complicate zhings. Let's get zhis done quickly. Hold zhe bowl vizh one hand and use it vhen I say so. Promise me one zhing – hold to zhe arm rest vizh your ozher hand, and vhatever happens, do not let go!"

"Why?"

"Just promise." the German insisted.

"Okay... okay. That's not too difficult, is it? Anyway, about..."

"Stop zhe time stalling and open your mouzh. Don't close it until I tell you to. And now..." for a moment, the sardonic grin returned in all its scary glory, "Let's do zhis."

The aspect of silencing the Sniper so easily while the man was at his mercy made him feel generous. He would start with the removal of the broken tooth first, so maybe Sniper could benefit a bit longer from the pain-blocking effect.

With the blunt side of his scalpel he pushed the gum up. At this moment Sniper stiffened, his hand clenched to the chair and Medic knew his little act of mercy came too late.

"I'm sorry, but you have to bear zhis. Swallow please." Then he set the tongs in place and tugged carefully.

Sniper groaned deep in his throat – suddenly, everything came back to him. A pulsating, burning pain in his leg, even worse and deeper in his shoulder where his flesh fought against the pull of the stitches like it wanted to rip open again... his muscles ached, but he barely noticed this. Worse than all was the pain in his mouth when it jolted from the root of his tooth into his skull, like an electric shock, forcing tears from his eye. His chest rose and sank as he breathed in short, abrupt intervals. And the pain didn't stop, it got worse when Medic increased the pressure on his tool and pulled again. Metal scratched over enamel. Another stroke of pain, strong enough to affect his vision, a shrill scream of alert in his head.

"Sniper." A cool hand touched his face and the Australian opened his eyes.

"Don't pass out. Can you stand it?"

He nodded wearily. Did he have a choice anyway? He noticed that the tongs and with them the unnerving pressure was gone.

"Good. Because... it gets vorse... Zhe tooth is already broken into two or zhree fragments..."

"What does it mean?" Did he want to know? For a moment he would have preferred another brawl in the desert.

"I have to cut open zhe gingival and zhen let's hope zhat I can get hold of the root and remove it at once. Zhis vill hurt. But you have to take it. Can you?" Medic asked again.

Sniper closed his eyes and nodded again when he felt a finger stroking over the skin under his eye.

"Good. I'll do it quickly. Now open zhat big mouzh of yours again please."

His fingers dug deep into the fabric of the arm-chair the moment the blade of the knife glided through his gum. A rush of warm blood left a metallic taste on his tongue and he had to fight back the urge to throw up. Mercilessly the battered dental nerve sent one shockwave of pain after the other through his body and brain.

"Stay avake, don't faint, you hear me? Spit out, please."

The Medic had to repeat his request three times until Sniper finally heard him.

He almost missed the bowl, when he bent his head forward, blood was already running out of his mouth and he had to spit more than once before Medic could continue.

Sniper's whole body trembled now, his arms and legs felt heavy and stiff, like every muscle was burning.

"Try to keep at least your head still." Did the voice really sound gentle or was it mocking him again? He didn't care.

A guttural scream left his throat, his legs kicked out and he tried to press his back further into the chair but he didn't close his mouth or let the arm-chair go the moment Medic got hold of the root of the tooth and pulled it out. His cheeks were wet with tears now.

"Spit, you idiot, quickly!" the German ordered harshly and simply let tongs and tooth drop to the floor where they joined all the other things he had to remove from the Sniper's body today.

Sniper obliged and looked in horror as the bowl in his hand was filled with more and more of the dark red, thickly liquid.

But the pain had changed, from piercing shocks to a dull throbbing. Still bad, but less nerve-wrecking.

"A' 'e 'one..." he tried to ask and almost swallowed up a mouthful of blood.

"Don't speak yet. No, but ve are done soon. Lean back again and I vill stitch up zhe vound and still the blood flow... here, rinse please." He handed him a glass of water that he accepted with a shaking hand, almost spilling it.

Medic chuckled. "I help, old man." His hand steadied Sniper's grip and led the glass to his lips, deliberately ignoring the fact that their fingers had to touch. A small, still working part of the Australian's mind was very aware of this gesture. Another part, obviously responsible for reasoning, told him that the man was a doctor after all...

He took a sip and rinsed and repeated the process a few times.

There was a new sensation of pain when Medic sealed the open gap with a few stitches, unpleasant but almost relaxing compared to the procedure before. Pressure was added again the moment Medic pressed a piece of odd smelling cotton into the small space.

"Zhis absorbs zhe blood vhile it stops zhe bleeding. Don't vorry. Do you need a break?" He sat back and watched the Sniper's pale, strained face. The man nodded.

"I'm tired..."

"Do you vant to sleep? I can fix zhe ozher toozh quickly, you do not have to be awake... Give me zhis." He removed the bowl with its obnoxious content from the Sniper's hand and put it back on the table, then he hesitated a moment before he took a piece of cloth and spilled some water over it.

"As I said, it is a mess." he growled as he carefully started to wipe off some of the blood splatter from Sniper's chest and abdomen. The Australian watched him in silence.

"Here, take zhis one. For zhe face."

Sniper took another, a clean tissue from Medic's hand and cleaned his face.

"I wasn't crying." he insisted, his voice still a bit shaken, weak and a bit slurred.

"I know. Zhis is a reflex caused by zhe... it's a reflex. Don't vorry. How do you feel?"

"Wobbly like shit. Like I have the mother of all hangovers. And every fiber of ma damn body hurts... I wanna drop dead 'n sleep 'til judgment day. But..." The moment he closed his eyes again he felt every tremble, each strain and more and more sources of pain seemed to appear.

"Restless?"

"Mhm... sum'thin' like that..."

"Zhere are still a few minor injuries and cuts I have to look after. Do you vant to stay avake?"

"Nah. You know... vhat I really vant is my kiss..." he sighed, eyes still closed, his grin crooked. "Ouch, don't hit a dying man!" he laughed faintly.

"You are dead hopeless, but you vill not be dead anytime soon, I'm afraid, you stupid horny bastard." Medic scolded. "But anyvay... don't you dare to touch me!"

"What..?" A hand hindered him from opening his eyes when he suddenly felt how hesitant, warm lips touched his. More by reflex than intentionally he raised his arm.

"Don't." the German whispered, and Sniper stopped the movement. Once more this night he opened his mouth, slightly and with another kind of anticipation than before. He didn't expect it, the more he was surprised when he felt the other man's tongue against his, if only for a second. Then it was over.

"Will..." he opened his eyes and looked at the Medic's back.

"Shut up and rest now, I still have some vork to do."

"But... hu? What's that?" A small object lay on his tongue and before he could really realize it he had swallowed it.

"Vhatever happened only happened in zhe name of medicine. It's a harmless, but effective sleeping pill. It vill let you sleep vizhout influence on your central nerve system, so don't vorry. Rest." His voice was low.

"Sneaky bastard." Sniper growled. And smiled. His body was still hurting, his face felt strangely awry, he was exhausted but those weren't the only reasons to the strange atmosphere now, and he knew that the Medic knew. But thinking became difficult as his gaze unfocused and his mind shut down.

For a moment, Medic watched the sleeping man, saw how the muscles were trying to recover, contracting even under the skin of the stomach. Some new scars were added to the body tonight, but soon they would fade as the old ones.

He averted his eyes from a big, old scar that went across the abdomen and looked at the Sniper's face instead. The features didn't relax as much as he had expected, but that would probably come later. With his thump he carefully wiped off another drop of blood from Sniper's chin.

"Idiot. Vhat are you doing to me?" He sighed. "Vhatever. Zhis has been a long day and it's not over." he scolded himself. "Back to vork. Zhis foot does not look good, vhat zhe hell has he done vizh zhat? Are you even too stupid to valk properly, Nicholas?"

x x x x x

"You took your time." Impatience showed clearly in Smith's face. "And look at you. You are a perfect fright. Well, even more than usually..." He laughed at Wagner's angry glare.

"An unexpected turn of events." he hissed. "Well, handsome, how are you doing? You have seen better days, too, I assume?" Ignoring Smith, Wagner had turned to the man bound to the table. "Too bad you can't answer me." He grinned maliciously at the Spy before he faced Smith again.

Weakly Spy tried to move his head, but he couldn't see the two men at the other side of the room. The man called Wagner awakened an awkward feeling of unease in him. There was something about the man's face, and that weren't the strange scars that made him look like some kind of jig-saw-puzzle. In a strange way, he seemed familiar but he couldn't put his finger on it. Neither literally nor physically. He tried again to move against the bonds but they didn't move and he was missing the necessary strength to loosen them. After all, he hadn't regained consciousness until maybe an hour or two ago, who knew what they had done to his body. And who knew why they didn't mind talking openly in the same room with him. He didn't feel like dying now at all, not after he had seen that his comrades were alright so far. He had to go back. But what could he do about it if they decided to get rid of him now?

Worrying wouldn't help him, so he tried to focus on the words spoken. He couldn't understand them well, but they were arguing, Smith in his arrogant, loud and snobbish manner, Wagner angry, his voice evil and aggressive. And low. Spy had met enough dangerous men in his life, and this man was maybe the most dangerous he would ever meet. Skillful, yes, intelligent, yes. But there was also a trace of madness in his voice and Spy knew this made this man's actions unpredictable.

"One more day, Wagner, one more day and the game is over. And still, there's no dead body to be seen anywhere. Are you a failure after all?" Smith laughed.

"You want a dead body? Don't worry, there will be a dead body soon, Smith."

Footsteps came closer.

"That's hardly heroic or impressive, to start with him, but do as you like. We will talk later."

The same moment the door closed behind Smith Spy could look again in Wagner's eyes. He shuddered when he saw the flashing madness dancing in them. Who was this man? Why couldn't he remember him?

"Are you bored, mon ami?" the man said with a mocking French accent. "I am not surprised. Smith is the most boring person on this planet, don't you agree?" Of course, there was no answer.

"I asked, don't you agree?" Wagner snapped, suddenly holding the tip of a knife against the side of Spy's throat. Spy could feel the skin breaking and a drop of blood running down when he slowly nodded.

"Good. Ah, you and your team... all of you really don't do what I want you to the first time, always do I have to add some extra pressure... but I'm glad we are in complete agreement on this."

Spy tried to hold back a smile at this. The man's face was in a bad shape, dark blue around the nose and the bridge looked like it was broken. Whoever had had to face Wagner, he obviously had some unexpected ace up his sleeve. 'Good one.'

"Oh, this amuses you? How impolite. Hey, how about this. You are hardly a challenge now, I will release you, and we have a nice little fight, between men, no weapons, no tricks." And indeed, he had already started to cut the ropes that where holding him down. "You see, as I am such a nice guy I'll even allow you to strike the first blow. Win, and you can go. How is that, don't you want to thank me?"

Slowly Spy tried to sit up, his head was dizzy and hurting. He removed the tape from his mouth and rubbed his stiff wrists and ankles. There it was, the once-in-a-lifetime-chance. Maybe the-last-one-in-this-lifetime.

"'ow iz zat... if I does not say 'zank you' you are going to gut moi, right?" He reached for his throat but the small wound had already closed.

"Maybe, Spy, maybe. Now, come one!" Wagner laughed and waved at him, like he was greeting an old friend.

"S'il vous plait. I 'as to, vaille que vaille, non?" He sighed. He wasn't a hand-to-hand combat fighter, especially not at his current state, but what else could he do. Quickly he attacked, lunging his whole body forward with all strength he had left.

"Is that all, Monsieur Vaincu? Who are you trying to fool?" Wagner screamed laughingly and dodged, the attack.

The moment Spy came closer to the face of his enemy his eyes widened when he finally understood.

"You are...!" But the world turned dark again when the impact of a fist hit his face.

"I know. And you are boring, too." Wagner yawned, disappointed. "Well, I have some business to do with our beloved Mr. Smith. Guess it won't do any harm when I let you sleep there on the floor. I hope to see you later, my friend."

x x x x x

_I'm a bit in a hurry because my bf is going to pick me up any minute ^^_

_Maybe I'll add more to the description later, now the translation have to do, I'm sorry ^^_

_Btw., I wrote a Halloween bonus, gonna upload it tomorrow. Don't expect too much of it though, haven't written horror in a while ^^_

_Medic:_  
><em>"Lässt Du das sein!" - basically "Will you stop this!" but this way we would usually talk to a dog ^^<em>

_"Du mich auch." - "back to you."_

_French bits:_  
><em>vaille que vaille - one way or another<em>

_Vaincu - Loser_


	18. Chapter 18

Snowbowl 18 – Darkly Everafter

His eyelids were heavy, so much strength was needed just to open them a bit. The light was dim, yet it hurt in his head. Hurt. Everything hurt, his leg not as bad as his shoulder, the shoulder not as bad as his muscles. The muscles not as bad as his head. It was warm, too warm, but he couldn't free himself from the blanket that was tightly wrapped around his body.

He tried to move, only resulting in another wave of pain, all his voice could form was a groan.

Somebody came closer.

"Are you avake? Sleep some more."

"Will...?" he asked. "Help... burn... I'm burning..."

"No, you are not. You have a little fever, caused by all zhe exhaustion. It vill be gone vhen you vake up again. Sleep some more, you need it."

A cold hand touched him, his forehead first, then his swollen cheek. He sighed, then he was asleep again.

The Medic watched his patient a little while longer until he was reassured the Sniper was fast asleep. While he listened to the now regular, deep breathing he realized how worn out he was. He tried to remember the last time he had slept enough, but couldn't. Since their arrival he hadn't rested for longer than a couple of hours, and now, after the occurrences of the last hours, the anxiety, even fear, and finally, the medical treatment of the Sniper's injuries, he felt the strain. Weak, tired, and a headache strong enough to make his eyes hurt.

The last hour he had spent cleaning his instruments and removing the blood from all objects and the Sniper's skin thoroughly. Only smears and stains on his once white overcoat were evidence of the raw procedures he had to perform earlier.

With everything in order again and the Sniper alive, resting and healing, there wasn't much more to do for now. He probably should rest as well, but there was still something he was dreading.

Soldier.

There was no way he would tell him the whole story behind the broken rib. He could still kick himself when he thought about the little slip of his tongue. Of course he would have to lie about that, he wondered how much it would take to satisfy Soldier's curiosity. And about his little drug... yes, he had thought about it before he gave it away, because, of course, there would have been enough to explain even without the Sniper's unpredictable, inappropriate behavior. But still...

Soldier was not too hard to deal with, just let him shout. As long as he was not provoked, everything was fine again once he got rid of his anger. Fortunately, he wasn't the grudge-bearing type anyway.

Usually Medic wasn't the target of his outbursts, and he certainly wasn't in the right mood for it now, yet he didn't like to procrastinate unpleasant but unavoidable things.

"Let's go and be done vizh it." Medic sighed. "Zhis fool vill hopefully not hurt himself vhile sleeping vhen left alone for a vhile." He looked again at the Sniper's face, then at his own hands. Although he had wiped off the blood, they still seemed to be soiled. Maybe he would have the chance to take a quick shower once Soldier was done. His back ached when he stood up from his chair and stretched.

x x x x x

"GODDAMNED NAZI WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY MEN!"

The words still rang in his ears when his back hit against the wall, the Soldier's punch had caught him off guard. Stunned and unable to react he simply slid down to the floor. Carefully he touched his face. His cheek and his lip hurt, and on his fingers he saw blood. 'Ach ja... Nicholas' Eckzahn... ist wohl wieder aufgesprungen, der Riss...'

His mind was fogged with irrelevant thoughts, denying the words he had just heard.

What happened anyway? Medic had left his patient behind and entered their main compartment, tired and annoyed, but suddenly, before he could close the door behind him, a loud, loathing voice and a fist had welcomed him.

"ANSWER ME, NAZI-SCUM!"

There it was again. That word. He lifted his head and faced the Soldier's hate-filled glare. Slowly, he stood up again, straightening his back and adjusting his clothes.

The other team-members were equally, deeply shocked at their leader's sudden attack and, left speechless, could only stare at the two men.

"I assure you, Soldier, zhat I am not a Nazi, and never vas." Medic stated, his voice calm and filled with disgust. His face showing a mixture of dignity and anger. "Maybe it vasn't my visest decision to entrust zhe Sniper vizh zhe drug, yes, I should have consulted you first, but it vas a spontaneous..." Before he could finish his explanation he was interrupted again.

"DON'T GIVE ME THAT SHIT! THIS WAS ANOTHER HUMAN EXPERIMENT, AS YOU HAVE DONE BEFORE WITH YOUR FELLOW NAZIS!" Soldier was fuming, deaf to all reason in his wrath and revulsion.

"VHAT DO YOU KNOW, DUMMKOPF, LISTEN! I WAS NOT A NAZI, I HATED THEM AS MUCH AS YOU DO!" Finally, he lost his composure and shouted back when Soldier didn't listen.

"SHUT UP, SCUM! YOU WERE ONE OF THEM, ANOTHER SLAUGHTERMAN, PART OF THE GENOCIDE..." Soldier stood close to him now, shouting in his face while he held the Medic by the collar of his coat. As the grip got firmer, he remembered how he had almost been strangled. He wanted to retreat, but couldn't with the wall right behind him. The change of the expression of his face finally woke the Engineer from his paralysis – he rushed over to the two men and pushed the Soldier back.

"Are ya totally nuts, John?" he asked, bewildered.

"Stay out of this, Engineer." Soldier sneered, and the Texan took a step back from him, even more confused at the man's threatening tone.

"And you," He turned back to the Medic, who, while shaking his head in disbelief, rubbed his throat as if the still visible dark-blue marks suddenly started to hurt again. "And you, bastard... maybe you enjoyed butchering the Jews of your country, but I won't allow..."

This time, the Medic interrupted him.

"Vhat are you lunatic talking about, I didn't..."

"Ha! Liar! Tell me one reason why I should believe YOU!" the Soldier barked back, smiling grimly.

"Because I am a Jew myself, idiot! Vhatever you zhink you know, you don't know half of it." he explained, aghast at the hostility directed towards him from a team-member he usually respected, feeling weaker than ever. When did things become so ugly?

But the Soldier's smile didn't disappear, now looking grim, disgusted and also triumphant.

"I know that, iMedic/i."

This calm, aloof answer perplexed him. How could he...?

"Aber..." But again Soldier didn't let him finish his sentence.

"That's what makes you an even more detestable motherfucking Nazi. You gladly slaughtered your own people and used them for your sick experiments. And now you continue with my team."

The air of pride and composure vanished from the Medic's now pale face, leaving behind sadness, bitterness and underlying, helpless scorn. All he did was staring at the Soldier in silence.

By now, Heavy had joined them, but when he put his large hand on Soldier's shoulder, the veteran brushed him off.

"This not believe I can." Heavy shook his head, his voice serious. "Together we worked for three years almost. Medic helped. Always. Reliable. Wrong you must be, Soldier..." He said sadly, casting an asking look at the Medic who remained silent, almost absent-minded. Pyro, his face of course unreadable, took a stand between the Medic and the Soldier, his pose clearly displaying his opinion. He would know how to stop another physical attack.

"I know what I'm talking about, Heavy. I have a reliable source I trust very much." Soldier replied, almost spitting out the last words. "I am as disappointed as you, but boys, we have a traitor. We have to protect..."

"That's enough, Soldier!" Engineer interfered angrily as his patience snapped. "You must be a complete, blind idiot sittin' on a banana tree when ya really blame him for what happened to the Sniper! He probably saved his life! Medic, are you alright? Forget this idiot." Worried, he looked at the German.

"It vas not like zhat... it vas different... I..." He was more talking to himself, Engineer wasn't even sure if the man had heard him.

"Well, then tell us, I'm really curious with what kind of lies you can come up with." Soldier sneered.

"Naye, me friend, that is really enough." Now the Demoman had joined the conversation as well, not liking the scene at all. "Me and ye know, we ain't havin' no obleegation to tell 'bout our past and reasons to be here, aye? Dun't trouble ye men with them past."

"Ha! Fine!" the Soldier replied, almost sulky. "Stick with this German scum. Traitors, all of you! Leave me alone, Engineer!" He shoved the surprised Texan out of his way, failing to notice the man's flinch when he pushed against his injured shoulder. Enraged, Soldier left them standing and rushed out of the door that connected the two compartments.

The others just stared after him, confused. Nobody had seen this coming. Just a few minutes ago everything was normal, concerning the circumstances. They were tensed because of the Sniper's condition and the Spy being a hostage of Smith and his gang, yes, but they had dealt with dangerous situations before. Well, there was something strange between the Medic and the Sniper lately, the recent behavior of the two made that clear. But nothing had hinted at treachery or any danger emitting from one of them at all.

"Are ya alright, doc? Hey, wake up man! Earth to Medic!" Scout almost didn't dare to come closer to the man who still seemed to be in some state of shock. "Why didn't ya just tell this old fart what happened? What's the matter with him anyway?"

This was a question nobody could answer. The Scout's words somehow reached the Medic's mind and his thoughts were brought back to earth.

"Excuse me, I don't vant to talk about it." he muttered. "I... didn't mean any harm. To none of you, zhat's all. I vill return to my patient now. Please forget about zhis interference for now, zhank you."

Being able to feign a somewhat dignified composure, he went through the same door as Soldier again, not even thinking about the possibility to run into him again.

x x x x x

He reached the room without any unpleasant encounter. Once he had closed the door, he leaned against it, staring at the floor, his gaze aghast. Something went horrible wrong and he wasn't able to place the past few minutes and spoken words at all. Anger rose in him, soon becoming wrath, and he wished he could just go back, throw that Soldier to the ground and ram his scalpel into the flesh of his throat, cutting that sneering, condemning vocal chords forever. Faintly he remembered how the others defended him against the accusing words, but they, too, would doubt him now. The very idea of looking in their eyes again anytime soon, maybe ever, was terrifying.

A stirring noise caught his attention.

The Sniper turned around on his make-shift bed, obviously awake now.

"Will... somethin' wrong? Ouch..." His question was ended with a groan of pain when he tried to lift his head. His upper jaw hurt, and so did every fiber of his body.

"Nozhing. Go back to sleep, please." Sighing, Medic tried to push the troubling thoughts away.

"Can't. Ow, why's everythin' hurtin'..." Yet he somehow managed to sit up a bit. "Gawd, ah still feel like I'm scorched to death... can I help maself with a drink?"

"Lie down again, idiot. I vill get you somezhing." Maybe this wasn't so bad, dealing with the Sniper was still annoying, and it would be easy to blame him for everything that had happened. But he knew this wasn't fair and after all, this nuisance was a welcomed distraction.

He passed by Sniper without even looking at him and filled a clean glass with water.

The Australian cursed as he turned his body around again so he could follow the Medic with his eyes. He watched his back as the man stood at the table.

"You kissed me." he suddenly stated. The German took a sip from the glass, apparently calm and undisturbed.

"I did not do such a zhing." he answered.

Sniper laughed. "Of course ya did, I..."

"Nicholas, I assure you I didn't. Here, have zhis." He handed him the cup. "Do you need help?"

"No, thanks. Why are you saying you..."

"Vhy I say I did not do zhat? Because it is true. You had a fever, and your sleep vas restless at first. You probably dreamed, sorry to disappoint you."

"And the fact you groped me when ah couldn't feel it was another dream, eh?" He raised his eyebrows when he drank from the water.

Medic shook his head.

"No, I did zhat. To tease you, zhat's all. Don't get zhe vrong idea. Zhe rest vas a dream or a hallucination, maybe caused by zhe drug. I don't know."

Sniper watched him closely, the Medic's voice sounded convincing, but he wasn't sure if he should believe him. It felt real. But why should he deny one thing but freely admit the other? And after all, his memory was messed up. He couldn't even remember half of the last night. If nobody besides him saw it, did it happen at all? That was too abstract for him now, his head hurt. He emptied the glass and gave it back to Medic. Until then, the German had avoided to look directly at him, but for a second Sniper could see the left half of the man's face. The moment Medic realized Sniper's stare he turned away, but the Australian, albeit flinching as he moved, seized him by his arm.

"Bloody... what happened to ya face? Don't tell me I did... did ah hit ya or somethin'?"

The skin was still flaring red, and where it covered the cheekbone it slowly turned into a dark purple. Now he also noticed the cut in the Medic's lower lip, although it didn't bleed anymore, it looked fresh.

"Vell, for once zhis isn't your fault." 'not directly' he added in his mind.

"But how... did that bastard return? Did he attack ya again?" His glare was angry and worried, especially as some of his memory returned, reminding him how dangerous that strange guy was. And he remembered him talking about the Medic. But what was it?

"No, he didn't. It vas an accident." He focused on the Sniper's shoulder and checked the bandages, trying to evade further questions.

"Yeah right, ya stepped through the cellar door and fell down the stairs, eh?" Sniper remarked sarcastically, not satisfied with the answer at all.

"Vho do you zhink I am, an abused housevife? Idiot. Does zhis hurt?" He pressed one finger against the bandage and the underlying, healing flesh.

"OUCH! Of course it does and ya doin' it on purpose!" Sniper protested.

"Maybe you get zhe hint and shut up now."

A sudden knock stopped the Australian from giving a sharp answer as the tone of Medic's voice puzzled him.

"Vhat's zhe matter?"

"Hey doc." The Engineer entered the room, obviously worried, guilt written all over his face.

"Ya alright, pardner?"

"I'm fine, zhank you, Engineer." Medic answered shortly. "Let me have a look at zhat leg."

"How 'bout you, Sniper?" He grinned at the man, who sensed that this smile wasn't genuine.

"Great, could go on a campin' trip in the outback right now, chasin' crocodiles up the trees. How 'bout you, Tinkerbell, could ya fill me in? Seems like ah missed some of the fun." Sniper growled, impatiently, not liking to be left in the dark.

"Didn't ya tell 'im, Medic?" the Texan wondered.

"No. Do not see zhe use of it." Carefully he removed the bandages and convinced himself there were no signs of inflammation.

"He's gonna hear 'bout it anyway, oughta tell him now, don't ya think?" But the medic didn't answer.

"Of course ya oughta tell him absolutely now, he's not dead yet, ya know?" Sniper growled. "Engie, what the fuck happened while ah was out cold?"

"Uh, okay when ah tell him? Alright." he continued when the Medic shrugged. "Erm, we had a rather ugly scene before. Soldier, well, suddenly... kinda lost it and accused Medic of bein' a Nazi, doin' some nasty experiments with ya..."

"He did WHAT? Will, er... Medic..." He bit his lip as he looked at the Engineer but the Texan only smiled.

"Ya called him by his name in front of all of us a few hours ago, pardner, was kinda impossible to ignore."

"Fuck, sorry..."

"Nevermind." The Medic really didn't mind anymore. It was just a name, who cared anyway?

"Did he hit ya?" Sniper inquired, his eyes narrowed.

"Ve kind of had a fight. Don't make a fuss, it von't kill me, and it's not zhe first time one of us is injured, nicht wahr?" Attempting to brush the topic aside he concentrated on the Sniper's ankle. He noticed the reduction of the swelling, this would heal soon.

"We usually don't hurt each other, Will."

"Like when ya break a rib of a team-mate, eh?" Engineer interrupted and despite the awkward situation he almost laughed at the guilty faces of the two men.

"It was an accident..."

"Zhis vas not intended..."

"Yeah, yeah, forget it. Shit happens." He grinned openly, drawing some conclusions of his own, now that he thought of the Sniper's behavior when the man was still high and out of his mind.

'Out of his mind.' Inwardly, he sighed. 'Not the only one...'

"Anyway. Ya know, Medic, I'm sorry 'bout what happened. Whatever happened back in Germany is not our darn business after all. Ya should know we ain't gonna believe that shit he said, alright?"

"Yes, zhank you. Let's forget about zhat. Ve have more urgent matters to deal vizh." He smiled weakly, not sure if he could really trust these or his own words, but he felt a bit better.

"Glad ta hear that. Don't worry yaself to death. Well, gotta go... still gotta pick a bone with that Soldier, wonder what happened to give him them sick ideas... See ya later."

"Later." Sniper grumbled, the word 'sick' triggered another memory in his mind. He waited until the Engineer had left and turned to the Medic.

"Explain an old man what the fuck was goin' on."

"No."

"Come on now, what the fuck was the matter?"

"You really are a pain." Medic frowned. "Zhat's it, in a nutshell. Soldier believes I was a Nazi and zhat I continue my dirty vork vith you."

"Stupid mongrel, gonna tell him a thing or two once I'm out of this..." Sniper's anger rose again.

"Don't. He vasn't all vrong." Medic said calmly.

"WHAT?"

"Is zhat one of your favorite vords? I said he vasn't all vrong..." he answered slowly, again looking at his hands.

"Full story. NOW!"

Medic lifted his gaze and studied the Australian's face. Still swollen and probably more colored than his own cheek. The cut at his forehead wasn't that bad once he had cleaned and stitched it up. And he couldn't fail to see the determination. He sighed again.

"Like, 'and it came to pass in zhose days' or vhat do you vant to hear?"

"Start with Adam and Eve if ya have to. Don't think ya can give me shit like he wasn't wrong and don't explain yaself. Please, Will." His voice changed, from scorn to concern. "For once, just talk, dammit."

"You should rest." the German tried again, not really thinking he could distract the Sniper as easily as that.

"I promise you I will when ya done."

"I see, you vant a bedtime story, a nice little fairy tale, maybe?" Medic smiled coldly and sat down on the table, staring at the opposite wall. "Vhatever."

x x x x x

Once upon a time there lived a merchant and his wife and they had two sons. They called them Jacob and Wilhelm and they were very proud of their children. The eldest was kind and well-spoken, so he made new friends everyday and would soon help his father with the family's business.

The youngest son was quiet and blessed with a quick mind and a love for knowledge. He learned faster than his brother and his friends and so his father and his mother said he shall become a doctor.

In his fourteenth year his teachers had taught him all they could and so his family said he shall go to university once he turned fifteen.

The two brothers were not much alike, but dear to each other, and soon they missed the times when they could talk and play and laugh together.

But they wanted the parents to be proud, and Jacob worked hard for his father, and Wilhelm worked hard with his studies.

After the first three months, the younger son was tired. He went to his father.

"Father, I am too young. Please, allow me to meet my brother and my old friends so we can play and talk and laugh."

The father looked at the youth and shook his head.

"No, my dear son. You shall study hard and learn as fast as you can. A few years from now you will be a doctor, and you will be smart and rich and have all the more time to frolic with new friends and your brother. Be patient."

"Yes, father, I will do as you say." So he never mentioned this again. He kept to his books and his studies as he was told and made great progress.

After three more months, he couldn't concentrate anymore. He went to his father.

"Father, I feel too restless. Please, allow me to take a break from my studies, allow me to travel with my brother so I can see more of the world."

The father looked at him seriously and shook his head.

"No, my dear son. You shall study harder and learn faster than you did. A few years from now you will be a doctor, and you will be smart and rich and have all the more time to travel to places more far away than your brother ever could."

"Yes, father, I will do as you say." So he never mentioned this again. He kept to his books and his studies as he was told and made more progress than ever.

Three more months passed, he was daydreaming. He went to his father once more.

"Father, I feel that I really like someone. Please, allow me to take a break from my studies, allow me to spend some time with this person so I can find out if this is love."

The father looked at him furiously and shook his son by his shoulders.

"No, my dear son. You don't study hard enough and you don't learn fast enough or you wouldn't think of such things. Go back to your books, and a few years from now you will be a doctor, and you will be smart and rich and you can have any woman you want. There should be no more about this. Go now."

"Yes, father, I will do as you say." So he never mentioned this again. He kept to his books and his studies and one month later it happened that the ruler of the country ordered him and his family and many, many more to be taken to concentration camps.

Now young Wilhelm was locked inside a room with many others. He didn't know them and he soon grew hungry and thirsty and frightened. His parents were gone and so was his brother. He didn't sleep the first night and the second, and he fell asleep when he could not keep his eyes open anymore. When he asked where his family was there was no answer because nobody knew. Every single soul hungry and thirsty and frightened. After a while, the youngest son spoke and cried no more. There was nothing he wanted to know and running tears made him hungrier and thirstier than before.

In the mornings a tall, broad-shouldered man came in and gave them some bread and some water and left them again. Many mornings that happened, and sometimes not.

The boy asked the man every time he came why he was here for he didn't know his crime, every time the man glared at him and so the boy's heart sunk. Day after day a man or a woman was taken away and never returned and others arrived and asked and cried. He only sat there and was silent.

One day, the tall, broad-shouldered man took him away. He was beaten until he bled from many wounds and his bones ached. Then he was taken to another man. He was very tall and grim, and many shiny medals on his clothes told from the many heroic deeds.

His voice was cold. "You are the merchant's younger son."

"Yes." he answered.

"They say you have a mind so quick you studied to become a doctor."

"Yes." he answered.

"What is your name?"

"My name is Wilhelm, Sir."

"Come with me, young Wilhelm."

He went through a door left of his side and the youth followed. Then he stood in a chamber with a blood-covered floor and a table. A man was on the table and he looked like he slept.

"Work for us and you shall be rewarded with your live."

"No." he answered for he knew this man was evil as the devil.

This didn't please the man and he hit the boy hard.

"For your defiance this man shall be spared as you will suffer in his place."

So the boy screamed and kicked as he was tied to the table and a long needle went through his skin. After a while he lay still, watching the shadows and whirling colors and the room expanded and shrunk magically and his thoughts were running like a wild, raging current in his mind. When he thought he saw his father and his brother standing next to him, both with long knives with shiny blades in their hands like they would love to cut him to pieces his mind fell asleep.

Three more times he woke up and three more times the man made those dreams happen again. Then away he was taken again, back to the room where the others were kept. The man from the table in the room took care of him and gave him water to drink and talked to him of things he didn't understand.

A few days later he was beaten again until the old wounds bled and once more he met the tall, grim man.

"Come with me, young Wilhelm." he said and they went to another room. The floor was covered with blood and there stood six beds, in each bed lay a man or a woman and they were crying and groaning as their limbs were cut open with sharp shards of glass and knives. They stood in front of a bed with a young woman, and her eyes were wide and frightened and the boy felt sorry for her.

"Work for us and you will be rewarded with your life and you won't forget what you have learned."

"No." he answered for he knew this man was a devil.

Again, the man was not pleased with his answer and he pushed the boy to the ground and kicked him.

"For your defiance this woman shall be spared as you will suffer in her place."

So the boy screamed and kicked when he was tied to the bed and the devil himself cut his legs and arms open with a piece of broken glass. And he cried and sobbed when the blood rushed to the floor and the open wounds burned when the devil's henchmen injected flesh-eating germs so they could observe what would happen.

After three days and three nights he was dragged back again, to the room were the others were kept. The woman from the table in the room took care of him and washed the wounds with water and gave him bread to eat when he woke up.

A few days later he was beaten again, this time with a string of leather against the healing wounds and once more he met the tall, grim devil.

"Come with me, young Wilhelm." he said and they went yet to another room. The floor was covered with blood and organs and bodies with open chests and terrified, dead eyes.

In the middle of the room stood a single table and on the table lay a child, its eyes and face wet and its body shaking. On its chest there was a shiny, sharp scalpel.

"Work for us and you shall be rewarded with your life and you shall learn more about being a doctor than you ever would have without us."

"No." he answered for he didn't want to bring shame on his family.

Once more the man was not pleased with his answer.

"For your defiance this child shall be spared as you will suffer in its place."

So he was tied to the table, but he did not scream nor did he kick as he knew he was going to die. He would make his father proud because he would die honorable and without a sin.

The devilish man himself tore the remains of the boy's shirt apart and began to cut him along the sternum. The scalpel was sharp and blood streamed down the boy's body and he began to shiver. Soon the Blade reached his abdomen, and it cut deeper and the youth screamed and begged the man to stop and spare his life.

So it happened that he was freed from the bounds and while the open gap on his chest was quickly closed with a needle and a string the child was brought back and tied again on the table.

The boy took the knife and cut the child open, weeping as the little body trembled and bled and when the screams subsided and he held a still beating heart in his hand he fell to floor like he was dead and didn't open his eyes for a whole day.

And thus, the merchant's son was good and obedient and his mind was quick as ever so he wasn't beaten that often. Whenever he didn't follow his orders it only took quick punishments and he was good again. Quietly and quickly he learned, and the words the devil spoke were true, and he learned more about the human body than he was ever taught before. The devil hated him for who he was to him and praised him for what he did for him and so the boy lived on as days turned into weeks and weeks into months and soon, almost two years passed.

One day, a girl fair as a princess came and spoke to the devilish man and the haggard youth learned she was his daughter. She smiled at him and went away.

A few days later, she returned, and spoke to her devilish father and when she met the youth alone, she spoke with him, too, although he still was quiet and when her father returned he sent her away and the youth was punished.

A few days later, the devil's daughter returned when her father was away. She spoke to the youth and smiled and she came back many more times and spoke and smiled even more, however, he only shook his head and never gave her an answer.

Three months later, the devil ordered his men to bring him the young man and he locked both of them into his room and beat the youth senseless. When he woke up again, the devil was angry and so he learned that the daughter was having a child and said she would kill herself and the unborn life she carried if she couldn't have him, as he was the father.

However, the young man swore he was innocent and it was all a lie, but the man didn't believe him as his daughter was very dear to him. So he said the youth had to marry her and save the girl's and the child's lives or he should be punished.

The first day, the youth suffered from more hallucinations.

The second day, the scars on his arms and legs were opened again.

The third day, when the smooth, shiny blade of the scalpel glided through his skin he promised he would obey and then the girl and the merchant's youngest son were married and lived ever after until the end of a war.

x x x x x

The grin on the Medic's face was wide and bitter. He still stared at the wall, and neither he nor the Sniper spoke a word for several minutes.

Finally, Sniper cleared his throat, suddenly finding it hard to find the right words.

"What happened to the child?"

"It vas never born as it vas a lie. It never existed." the Medic answered, his voice sounding like it came from far away, lost in old memories that should have been buried forever.

"Your family...?"

"Killed. Zhey showed me zheir bodies as a reward for being good."

"This man... he was the motherfucker we stayed with when I was in Germany, right? What happened to him?"

"He died. After the var many trials vere held against the doctors vho took part in zhis madness. He, too, vas sentenced to deazh and vas hung." He sighed. "Vhen you and your friend vhere zhere, zhe trials vere about to begin. A few veeks after your departure he vas caught. He tried to, how do you say... get off zhe hook by giving zhem names of his followers. One last gift for his beloved son-in-law. Zhey came after me as vell."

"But you got away in time." the Sniper continued when the man paused.

"Nicholas, I did not get avay, I ran avay. My vhole life I ran avay. I did disgusting crimes to run avay from deazh, I tortured and butchered innocent humans, men, vomen, children... only to save my own life. I married a voman I didn't even like so her insane fazher vouldn't beat me to deazh. And vhen I had zhe chance to face zhe consequences like a man, vhat did I do? I clung to my vorthless life and ran avay again." Suddenly he laughed, loud and angry, with a hint of insanity. It sent shivers down the Sniper's spine.

"You know vhat? After a vhile I got used to vhat I did, vas even fascinated. Zhe first time I fainted, zhe second time I zhrew up for hours. But zhen I stared at the varm organ in my hands and vatched both disgusted and fascinated the last time it contracted. Soldier is right..."

"STOP THIS NOW!" Sniper shouted. Ignoring the pain in his body he sprang up, seized the Medic by his shoulders and shook him violently.

"SHIT HE IS! And ah promise ya right here and right now, ah gonna beat up everyone who says he's right, and that includes YOU! You did fucked up stuff because they did fucked up stuff to ya, so shut up and don't talk like it was ya own decision. Gawd, Will, you were half a child, even grown-up men would have done what ya did! Maybe worse! So STOP THIS." As he finished his sentence, he stopped shaking him, instead, he held him close, almost pulling him from his still sitting position in a tight, desperate embrace, his face against the Medic's disheveled hair.

Medic stopped laughing and forcefully, he pushed the man away - Sniper stumbled, his hurting body hardly able to keep balance.

"I'M SICK OF PEOPLE TELLING ME VHAT TO DO! BACK OFF NOW!" he shouted angrily. They glared at each other for a moment, in the end, the German looked away.

"So you still don't hate me, and you von't leave me alone?"

In spite of himself, the Sniper smiled.

"No can do, sorry mate. Worried about that?"

"You are a strange man, Nicholas. And no, I vas not vorried. One more hope shattered, but oh vell. Now do as you promised and go back to sleep, you need it. And I vill see vhat's up vizh zhe rest of zhe gang."

"Don't get too close to Soldier, okay?"

"I know for myself vhat do do, zhank you."

x x x x x x

The outside temperature was rising, it was past dawn already, and, leaned against the wall of the last part of the train, stood the Soldier. Muttering to himself he flipped through the pages of a small, tatty notebook he had found a few hours ago, again and again. i_"__Used__to__work__for__the__Nazis,__betrayed__his__own__people,__cold-hearted__killer,__experiments__with__drugs__on__humans.__Report__to__Smith,__write__more__later,__the__Soldier__gets__suspicious.__"__/i_

These and more treacherous words were written between technical data, sketches of strange constructions and physical formula in the Engineer's chaotic, characteristic handwriting.

x x x x x x to be continued x x x x x x x

i well, the chapter is long, so I will keep this short ^^

I'm rather tired and don't have anything witty to say, sorry...

Hope you don't mind the chapter's length, I will try to keep

things shorter next time.

If you wish for some music, search "nox arcana grimm tales" on youtube and listen to the playlist, that's what I did.

Here are the translations:

Medic:  
>'Ach ja... Nicholas' Eckzahn... ist wohl wieder aufgesprungen, der Riss...' = Yes, right... Nicholas' eye tooth... probably chapped again, the wound...<p>

not zhe first time one of us is injured, nicht wahr? = …., isn't that right? /i 


	19. Chapter 19

Snowbowl 19 – Headlong

"John?"

Soldier had been brooding heavy, dark thoughts, torn between denial, disbelieve and disappointment, all rushing inside his head. What if... what if... what if... Medic, Sniper, the missing Spy - they had disappeared from his mind. And although the fresh, still cool air had calmed him down a bit, the terrifying, nagging doubt was not going away. What if...?

He almost dropped the little book when he heard the Engineer's voice behind his back.

"You..." He didn't feel ready yet to deal with any of his men, especially the Engineer, but there he was and he sounded angry.

"John, what the fuck's wrong with ya?"

Tell him, tell him not. Confront him. Don't. Never ask questions if you can't deal with the answer.

"Can't you guess?" he snapped.

"Fine, don't turn around then. 'n nope, ah don't know what the fuck has bitten ya. Please, whatever's the matter..." Engineer came closer and tried to touch the Soldier's hand, but the man shrugged him off. "Somethin' happened, right? Come on, ah can't help ya if ya don't open ya big, stubborn mouth."

"Help? HELP? Don't you think you already helped enough?" Soldier laughed. "You. Medic. Everyone. Team of traitors, a joke. Sticking to a Nazi who betrayed them, betraying me, and you... all of you! WHO DO YOU THINK I AM, ANOTHER IDIOT YOU CAN FOOL? TRAITORS! A SHAME TO THE UNITED STATES, TO THE ARMY, TO GOD..."

"SHUT UP, YA DONKEY OR I'LL SHOW YA WAR!" the Texan suddenly shouted, an unusual thing to do for him, always calm, reasonable and laid back, a reaction that caught the Soldier off guard, even more than the sudden tackle when the man attacked him from behind, causing him to fall headlong to the ground.

"GET OFF ME!"

"NO! Ah gonna be sittin' here until judgment day or until ya finally get some sense into ya head!" The smaller man sat on the Soldier's broad back, holding on with his free hand. It took a lot of strength to keep the Soldier down, but nobody should underestimate the Engineer. His size was misleading, hauling buildings and equipment around a battlefield required stamina, and Engineer wasn't short of it. But after all, Soldier was stronger, so he had to take advantage of the man's surprise as long as it lasted.

"Ah have no idea what's wrong with ya, pardner. Ah don't know if it's true whaddya said 'bout Medic, maybe it is, maybe not, it's not our darn business! Hell, everyone of us could be guilty of everythin'! That's part of the deal, no names, no detail, no pasts. No friendships. Distance and professionalism. We broke the rule more than once, and now..."

"And now..." Soldier interrupted him, his voice low and tensed. "And now you want to keep to the rules, is that what you are trying to tell me?"

"Fool." Angry again, Engineer hit the back of the Soldier's helmet. "Of course not. Didn't I tell ya YOU were the main reason I finally signed that goddamned contract at all? Fool." He repeated and hit his helmet again, less forcefully.

"Is that yours?" Soldier turned around, causing the Texan to finally slide from his back and forcing him to break his fall with his injured arm.

"Ouch... fuck..." Engineer cursed, and took a look at the small, black book in Soldier's hand.

"Think so, haven't seen them for a while, though. Used one of them littl' fuckers for the last time after we arrived at Dustbowl. The quality of the paper ain't no good for mah pencils, I prefer the ones with that gray cover, like the one in my pocket here... Wait, why are ya askin' anyway?" he interrupted his own drivel when he felt how Soldier stared at him, his eyes dangerously distant from this reality, but still not completely lost, like they were searching for something in the Engineer's face.

"Dell, do you love me?"

This was a question Engineer hadn't expected at all, the suddenness bewildered him for a second.

"That's an unusual question for you to ask, John..."

"If that's your answer I know what to think..."

"Don't jump to conclusions just like that, ya big, foolish bulldog! Of course ah luv ya, otherwise ah would have better things to do than sitting in the fuckin' dirt with ya, 'kay?" he grumbled, angry with himself and the man in front of him. Somehow, this conversation led nowhere – he didn't know what to say or how to lure the Soldier's mind back to reality.

"John, what the fuck is wrong with ya?"

"Would you betray me? Or the team if you saw the opportunity?"

"What? Of course not!" Engineer almost shouted, aghast, just the very thought seemed so absurd. "Okay, if ah wasn't that worried 'bout ya ah'd really be insulted..." he added, shaking his head.

"Dell..." Soldier sighed, his voice and whole body language expressing his confusion and helplessness. And fear. "I want to believe you... but... I don't know if I can... when I try... when I almost do... like something suddenly jumps into my head and drags the trust away so I can't reach it... I don't know... please go... go now, go to the others before I lose the rest of my sanity... I don't want to hurt you... when I lose it..."

"Stupid donkey, didn't ah tell ya ah won't let that happen as long as ahm around? Are ya thinkin' ya can get rid of me as easy as that? No way Sir. We need our leader and you will be our leader, got it, pardner?" he added gently. "Ain't no good if all of us run around like headless chickens, eh?"

"The others..." Soldier muttered, this time, when the Engineer reached for his hand, he didn't pull away. "Bunch of kids. Better go back before they do something stupid... I hurt your arm, didn't I? I'm sorry..."

"Welcome back." The Texan smiled, glad this fight was won, hoping desperately that he would win the battle for the Soldier's sanity as well. The doubt hadn't vanished completely from the man's mind, and Engineer couldn't fail to see that.

x x x x x

He took the watch from his pocket, the fourth time within the last seven minutes as he could see. His decision to go back to the rest of the team seemed a bit hasty now that he thought about it again. The last, prominent impulse had been to flee from the conversation with Sniper. But was the alternative, to return to the others, really more comfortable? Either way, going on, going back, he would be forced to face situations, questions and, above all, answers he didn't feel like dealing with right. Anyway, the Medic had to make up his mind quickly, staying here, in the corridor, alone, was not an option, as long as the maniac was still after them. He reached for the door and was about to open it, when another thought came to his mind. Was it a good idea to leave the Sniper alone, what if their attacker was still after him, just waiting for an opportunity to finish what he had begun? Again he hesitated, should he go back or not, when he heard someone mentioning his name.

"No, Medic like this I do not believe, but know not. Maybe he was. Maybe not. Not matter it does." Heavy, talking in his slow, thoughtful manner, calm, yet there was a trace of doubt in his voice.

"Aye. Me thinks the same. We dun't know, rite? Ain't most of us here 'cause we screwed up in the past aneeway?"

"'uck it! I 'ont eel've a 'ord 'f 't!" Pyro snarled angrily.

"Pyro is loyal friend." Heavy again, absent-minded, like he was in deep thoughts. "Loyalty..."

Enough. Medic opened the door and entered the room, his face calm and serious, not giving away the doubts and reflections his own mind was bothered with.

Everyone fell silent at once, for one awkward moment the remaining group stared at him, and he, standing still, stared back.

"Medic..." Demoman finally cleared his throat.

"E'ry'in 'kay?" Pyro asked right away before the Scotsman could say anything else.

He nodded.

"Ja, Pyro, don't vorry. Zhe Sniper is asleep now, he vill need some time to recover, but is going to be fine..."

Heavy smiled at the answer.

"Good this is. But you alright, doctor, this is question leetle Pyro and I have."

The German couldn't help smiling back.

"Yes, zhank you, bozh of you..." He sighed, his mouth twitching nervously. "Soldier's vords... I don't know how to explain zhis... I don't vant to, but... I made mistakes, many, but I promise you I did not vant to do zhem and I vas never one of zhose... if zhis is a problem, I understand zhat, and I vill leave zhe team once ve return..."

"Aye laddie, hold yer horses!" Demo broke in, taking a stand beside the German and patting him on his back, strong enough to make him take a step forward. "Forget eet, we all made mistakes, aye, that's why wee are heere and not sittin' on our arses on the porch of our little white houses, rite?" He laughed. "Forgit it, for all yer knowin' me could have tried to blow up the queen of England 'n not even be sorry at all. No more talkin' 'bout that shit, got it, nurse?"

"Ja ja, I got it, zhanks Demo." The Medic grinned, relieved. Whatever doubts they might have, there wasn't hostility in their words. Even if they did not forget, maybe they really did not care.

"Right he is, doctor." Heavy agreed. "Not our business it is, da. But I not lie, you tell truth I believe, and I is glad you do."

"Aaalright, and now we are bein' a big happy family, ain't we, fuckers?" an angry voice suddenly remarked sarcastically. The Scout had been silent until now - partially listening to them, partially busy with his own thoughts and worries.

"How 'bout some tea 'n cookies, now we solved all our problems. Oh wait!" He tapped his forehead like something important had come back to his mind, exaggerating on purpose.

"Snipe's playin' sleepin' beauty, helmet-boy's lost his marbles and SPY'S STILL THE HOSTAGE OF THOSE FUCKIN' ASSHOLES AND NOBODY CARES AT ALL!" the youth yelled at them.

They looked guilty. Of course they had not forgotten, but too many things had happened at once, where should they start to untangle that mess?

"DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT! DO SOMETHING!"

"Sc't..." Pyro begun, waving his hands helplessly to calm him down. "'e 'id 'ot forg't... B't..."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." the boy snapped back. "Why don't ya stop talkin' and, just for a change, try to get him back before he's..." He couldn't finish the sentence.

The Medic went over to him, placing his hands on the Scout's shoulders.

"Do not be an idiot, Scout, ve can not rush headlong after zhem, instead..."

"Hands off the boy, German!" Soldier barked when he entered the room, followed by the Engineer. "Ah thought ya finally snapped out of it, pardner." Quickly the Texan got between the Soldier and the Medic who had already stepped back, his body tensed and his face pale again.

"Sorry." Soldier's voice had lost its bite at once. "Well then. Medic. Your report about the Sniper?"

"Vell..." he responded, looking at the American suspiciously. This truce was all too fragile. "He is fine, considering zhe situation. He is not in zhe condition for close combat soon, his leg and shoulder have to recover from bullet vounds, his vhole body is exhausted and vill need a day or two to recover... he lost a toozh but zhere is no danger."

Soldier was satisfied with this formal explanation.

"Good." he grunted. "Did he say anything about what happened to him?"

The Medic frowned as he tried to remember. Sniper's memory had still been rather affected, first by the drug, then by the pain, and later... they had been distracted. He didn't have much information, but if he told Soldier that, the man would probably get angry again.

"I don't know everzhing I'm afraid... he said he fell off zhe train, Spy vanted to call help. Zhen Sniper vas attacked. Vhen he..." He stopped, unsure if he should remind the Soldier of his interference, but he didn't see a way out of it. "Vhen he took zhe medicine I gave him it affected his sense for pain, he didn't remember too clearly vhat happened. His injuries and exhaustion make it hard to get zhe facts straight... Herr Soldier, I zhink after a rest he vill tell you more about it."

"Hm." The man eyed him doubtfully. "Okay, Medic. That's it for now. You may continue to look after him, I will convince myself soon if he is recovering. Alright, boys. Time to focus on another matter. Spy is still gone and we should try to get him back as soon as possible, dead or alive."

"Ya shouldn't say somethin' like that when the boy's present..." Engineer muttered.

"Speaking of zhe Scout... vhere is he?"

Everyone stared at the Medic, then they looked around. Scout was gone.

x x x x x

"Motherfuckin' morons..." Scout snorted scornfully. They hadn't even noticed him when he slipped away, too busy with all their talking. Really, was there any sense in talking and talking when nothing happened at all? Couldn't they just solve their arguments later, once Spy was back?

"Fuck ya all..." Time to take matters in his own hands, maybe he should have done so right away. After all, he was the fastest of them all, in the end they would probably have ordered him to check the area anyway, so why should he wait?

A nagging voice in his head told him how stupid it was to run off like this, and without his weapons! He wasn't fast enough to catch up with a train, and even if it was stopped, what could he do anyway? He pushed those thoughts away. He would see what he could do once he knew more. Who knew, sometimes things turn out better than expected, maybe he could not only find them, maybe there was really a chance he could help the Spy and bring him back.

He felt guilty and selfish as, despite all the sorrows and fears, he hoped to gain the team's and, above all, Spy's respect.

"They should treat me like an adult then... someone interesting..." He spoke to himself, although he felt childish, like he was playing the hero. "Screw them..." What was wrong with that anyway? What's so wrong about wanting to be a hero?

He rushed along the tracks without looking back at all. If they didn't care, why should he?

The landscape changed, being the same barren desert, but more and more rocks were scattered along the rail, and finally sheer rock walls reached into the sky – the serpentine way led through a valley. The sun was still gone, but the horizon was brighter, morning wasn't far away anymore.

Suddenly, he stopped, almost stumbling over his own feet when he saw something lying on the ground, not too far away, but not close enough to identify it for sure.

It... slowly he walked closer, with every step a little bit more confirmed in his apprehension. Hope or fear. Both. A lifeless body lay on the ground, the face in the dirt, wearing a suit and a mask.

"Spy... SPY!" he screamed, increasing his speed again. "SPY!"

Once he reached him, fear was stronger than hope. There was no answer, not even the slightest movement, no reaction at all.

"Please, don't be dead, Jean..."

The inanimate arms were bound behind his back, his face hidden from Scout's eyes. The boy hesitated, unable to decide what to do first. Turn him around, unbind him? Call his name again?

What if his worst fear... what if the Spy was... dead?

He kneeled down next to the man's head, his arm was trembling when he reached out to touch him, when somebody pulled him back while covering his mouth with his hand.

Startled, the Scout started to kick, but his feet, a few inches above the ground now, only hit the air. He tried to bite the hand and realized it held a strange smelling piece of cloth.

'Shit...' But he already felt how he lost his strength.

"Little idiot. I knew someone would come, and I really hoped it would be you." an unknown voice whispered in his ear. "Scared? Oh don't worry, you won't be out of it for long, that would be boring. I have such a fun plan, just for you and your swift legs." The malice tone made him shiver and he tried once more to fight back, but it was too late. Another man spoke, and the last thing the Scout heard was the laughing man as he answered.

"Our handsome bait? Well, I don't think we still need him, do we?"

Wagner smiled viciously while he petted the unconscious boy's head.

"Let's hurry before our friend wakes up again. Or before the others search for him. We have to be careful if we don't want to run into them, so better take care, understood? We don't have much time and if this is spoiled you will regret it!"

x x x x x

"Ugh..." Scout felt nauseous once he started to regain his senses and he had to fight the urge to throw up. He was freezing and it took a moment until he realized that he was still somewhere outside, but he lay on a metallic surface. Carefully he lifted his head, but he couldn't see anything and for a second he feared he was blind again, but with relief he noticed it was only a rag covering his eyes.

"What the fuck..." He was blindfolded and his hands were tied behind his back, hindering him to support his body so he could stand up. Helplessly he tossed and turned, trying to free himself while he was still too weak; stopping immediately when he heard a chuckle.

'Oh god...' He took a deep breath, about to scream, to cry for help, but the large hand covered his mouth again and shut him up.

"Oh no, Scout, you don't want to do that, believe me. They won't hear you anyway. From what I've observed they are making a fuss about that pathetic Sniper, seemed like his condition worsened." The man laughed once more.

"My, my, are you shivering? Poor little thing. I almost feel sorry for you. Be a nice little boy and don't scream. Or I make you regret it." The voice deepened, the amused tone vanished completely and Scout knew this guy was serious, so he nodded and bit his tongue once the hand was removed.

"Is Spy... alive...?" he asked quietly, dreading the answer.

"Spy? Oh, yes, the Spy. Don't worry, he is alive, for now. Let's not waste our time with him. Come, Scout." He grabbed the boy's arm and lifted him up, back to his feet.

"I have a little surprise for you." Scout didn't fight back when he was pushed forward, he still felt limp and was glad he could stand at all. Suddenly his foot only hit the air and if the man hadn't held him, he would have fallen.

"Why do you stop? Afraid? I will tell you what's in front of you, no wait! I show you!" With that, he laughed again and gave the boy one final push.

Scout screamed, his legs hanging in the air, all that held him midair were the stranger's arms.

"Seems like I have to shut you up or you'll wake the whole neighborhood." The man cruelly laughed while he lowered the boy's body and let go of him.

Before Scout could scream his head was underwater, the stale liquid running down his throat and nose. Shocked, he gasped for air, only to swallow another mouthful. Resisting the urge to cough he tried to return to the surface, only with his legs free to move. The water was cold, numbing his body and brain at once, and the pressure in his chest was painful.

But he was fully awake now, struggling against his bounds when he realized they were not very tight. The moment his head came out of the water and he took a deep breath he had freed his hands. "FUCK! FUCK FUCK FUCK!" he cursed and pulled the blindfold from his eyes, only to be surrounded by darkness. No point of orientation, no gleam of light, neither his hands nor feet touched anything but water. He fought back the rising panic inside of him, it was too much like the day back in the snow, when everything was too bright.

"Calm down... calm down..." he scolded himself.

Carefully, he swam a few strokes, the only sounds to be heard his hasty breathing and the water as it splashed against the boundaries in small waves, when he hit against a wall. Hectically, the boy searched the smooth surface for anything he could cling to, a handle, a ladder, anything, but of course, there was nothing.

"HELP!" he yelled, the echo of his own voice hurting in his ears. "HELP ME! PLEASE, HELP ME, GET ME OUT OF HERE!" Forcefully, he banged his fists against the wall, his screams swallowed by the water as his head dived under several times whenever his legs alone couldn't keep him up high enough.

Startled, he turned around. With a screeching noise from above a hatch, probably the very hatch he had just fallen – been thrown – through, was opened.

"If I were you I wouldn't waste my stamina for nothing, Scout." the man called. The boy narrowed his eyes, spotting a faint beam of light. It was not too high, but without any ladder or help the opening was impossible to reach.

"Fuck..." But he listened to the mocking advice. God knew how long he would have to endure this until somebody even searched for him. Silently he swam along the wall, touching it with one hand, trying to figure out how big his prison was and if there really wasn't anything to support him. He shivered violently by now, it was too cold, his slicked down hair wet, icy drops dripping down his neck and face. If he didn't warm up he would pass out soon. But if he moved too much, he would lose too much strength. His soaked clothes were heavy on his skin, he could free himself from his shoes. At first he had the impression that his feet got warmer, now that the waterlogged weight of the things didn't add to his struggle anymore, but the illusion was quickly gone and it was as cold as ever.

Nothing. His almost stiff fingers found nothing that indicated the end or the beginning of the room. He thought he had reached the corners of it a few times, but without his eyesight, Scout wasn't sure. Either this container stretched endlessly or he had circled it, once, twice... he didn't feel much anymore, the nerves in his fingertips were already numb.

'How deep is this thing anyway?' he wondered, but didn't dare to dive, being afraid he would lose the orientation for up and down as well. He couldn't even muster up the courage to swim away from the wall. Probably he would cross the room with a few strokes, but he was scared to take any risks. The cold, hard, smooth wall was the only thing for now that gave him a vague feeling of security, something he could rely on. How did he wish the others would find him soon, his anger and hatred had disappeared, the reasons petty and childish now that he was alone and lost. A friendly voice, just one friendly word, but all there was were the splashing, dark water and the faint, short echoes whenever he accidentally hit the metallic walls.

He stopped and stretched his left leg when he felt a cramp coming up, flexing and relaxing the muscles of his leg and foot, vincing at the pain when the cold like sharp needles shot through his body.

Too focused on his legs he missed the moment the hatch was opened again. Daunted and scared, resigning to the thought never to see one well-meaning face again, he pressed his small, shivering frame against the wall, holding his breath, hoping to hide from his cruel captor.

"Hey, boy, already bored? Here, I have a playmate for you, be nice to him!"

A wave of water rolled over his face when a large object came down with a splash. The hatched was closed again.

"Hello?" he whispered, but there was no answer. "Who is there...?" Still, only silence, and although there was no noise and no more movement once the surface had calmed down Scout knew he wasn't alone. The pain in his legs and the cold forgotten, he carefully moved away from the wall, but still touched it with his hand, then his fingers and finally fingertips as long as he could. Only a second after he had let go he swam against something.

He screamed but didn't retreat. Trembling from the cold and a bad, uneasy feeling he reached out to touch whatever or whoever there was in the water with him.

"No..." He clung to the body once he felt the wet fabric. "No... NOOO!" He tried to feel out the man's head and screamed when he touched a mask.

"SPY! JEAN! NO, no... please..." he sobbed and almost lost control of his movements, and he and the body sunk under water, but he managed to dive up again, dragging the man with him. Finally, he made it back to the wall.

"Please... say something... hang in there... oh god..." He tried his best to keep the man's head afloat. His body was still warm, as he realized now, and he could hear a very low, groaning sound - obviously, he was in pain. With his legs alone hindering him from sinking down again Scout touched the Spy's face. When his fingers found his mouth, his eyes widened in shock and disgust. He could feel how the skin was swollen from stitches where the lips were tightly sewn together – a horrible, painful gag Scout couldn't remove.

"God... Jean... don't die... please... don't die..." Another groan was the only answer he got, lower than before, and he felt how the body tensed in his arm.

"HELP! HELP US HELP!" he screamed again, his voice feeble and croaking, being aware it was in vain, while he struggled against the weight that threatened to pull him down. His arms and legs grew more tired with every second and move and he swallowed more water, but he didn't let go, desperately he pressed the man's upper body against his chest.

"NO! FUCK NO! DON'T! DON'T! OPEN YOUR EYES! DON'T!" he cried when the man lost his last warmth and there was no more breathing to be heard and all tension had left him, to slowly be replaced by the unmistakable stiffness of death.

"Don't die... don't die..." Scout sobbed, becoming weaker and weaker, not caring how his own strength was about to fail him. The dead body in his arm was heavy, pulling him down, yet he still refused to give him up, denying the truth.

"We get out of here, ya hear me, Frogs?" he smiled, suppressing another violent sob, his own head against the man's mask. "We get out of here, they will come and help us, Medic will heal ya, ya know, he can do that, he can save you. And ya gonna mock me because ah cried like a baby and ah gonna get angry, but that's okay, ya hear me? Mock me and tease me as much as you want, Jean, don't give up, okay? Ah gonna do whatever ya want, just don't give up, Jean, please, don't die, don't be dead..."

xxxxx to be continued xxxxx

_Do you love cliffhangers as much as I do?_

_Translations of the Pyro:  
>"'uck it! I 'ont eel've a 'ord 'f 't!" = "Fuck it! I don't believe a word of it!"<em>

_"'e 'id 'ot forg't... B't..." = "We did not forget... But..." _


	20. Chapter 20

****_[author's note] as usual, translations and gibberish at the bottom [/author's note]  
><em>

**Snowbowl 20 – Strong Coffee**

Without them noticing, the boy had slipped away, probably set out on his own to bring back their Spy. They looked at each other, alarmed. And with a guilty conscience. At this juncture the team would break apart - it had already begun, with one man taken hostage, two men injured, the distrust and now one missing, run off on his own.

Heavy sighed. "Leetle Scout on us relies not. Trust in us he lost. Me not surprised. Argument silly and stupid. Stops now!" he growled, glaring angrily at the Soldier.

Solder glared back, but didn't answer. Like everyone else, he knew their Heavy well enough. A loyal, reliable soul, but never, under any circumstances, ask him for trouble.

Finally, he nodded.

"You are right, private. Medic, we postpone our concerns until later, understood? Now, we have to find the boy, and join him, freeing Spy. Erm, well... what's the best strategy..."

"I zhink one should stay, as ve can't take zhat Sniper vizh us. It is not vise to leave anyone behind alone."

Demoman grinned. "Laddie, just say ye wanna stay with ye lang puppy. Aneeway," he continued, ignoring the Medic's angry, protesting remarks. "he's right. Let him stay here, in case bunny-boy returns. Ain't much of a fighter aneeway." he concluded, earning himself another, not all-too friendly comment.

Soldier looked at the Medic sceptically, it was plain obvious he still hadn't overcome his doubts about the German. But the Engineer's demonstrating coughing convinced him to ignore his worries for now. It was not reasonable to leave Sniper alone, that was the truth, taking him along was impossible, leaving another man behind to watch Medic was just stupid.

"Okay, Medic stays, playing nurse..."

"Haben sich heute alle gegen mich verschworen..." Medic growled quietly to himself, but Soldier's ears didn't miss his words, and, although he didn't understand them, the tone of his voice.

"Maybe I should stay behind after all and keep an eye on you..."

"Oh, shut up now, you two." Engineer broke in before the German could retort.

"ri't, is'out 'our a'g'ring S'ct w'dn't 'ave 'un 'way t'e 'irst 'ace" Pyro supported the Texan.

"Alright, alright, no more word about it." Soldier grunted reluctantly, not being a friend of being rebuked by anyone, but well aware that this was not the time to argue.

"Good for ya, Soldier, the cleverer gives in." Engineer smiled at him, guessing his thoughts.

"Da, great." Heavy's face had changed the moment he lifted his gun. The placid, contemplative expression had vanished, given way to another, scary personality – a battle-tried, merciless Heavy, baying for blood. "Time to teach coward men painful lesson."

x x x x x

The small group of five men had followed the rails for maybe half an hour. Their spirits were low, with the team split like this. Of course there had always been missions that hadn't involved everyone of them, sometimes only two were necessary to complete an assignment. But it was a different matter when they were forced to separate. Usually, their individual strengths evened out their individual weaknesses. Well, they weren't machines, they weren't stupid. Flexibility had always been a great strength all of them owned, they had had to improvise a lot lately, and survived so far. What didn't destroy them made them stronger.

Demoman, Pyro and Heavy were exchanging threats against their yet unseen enemies, cheering their battle spirits up, ready and eager to strike and longing to kill.

Soldier and Engineer followed them in silence.

The veteran shifted his rocket launcher on his shoulder to a more comfortable position. The heavy weapon was as ready to do its work as Heavy's mini-gun, Pyro's flamethrower or Demo's bombs. He loved the launcher, strong and reliable. Fortunately the Engineer had modified it again after he had constructed their traveling vehicle. It had been too powerful and therefore uncontrollable after the first modification. Maybe it had been perfect for shooting down a helicopter, but not for a real battle, men versus men. He smiled to himself. For a moment he wondered how he could believe whatever stood in this booklet. If he did, he should be careful using his weapon, but somehow he couldn't distrust the Engineer when it came to that. In his head, two minds were fighting a battle of their own, and another part of him could only watch, unable to intervene, helpless and confused. This time, reason gained the upper hand. He shot a glance at the Texan and was shocked when he saw the pale, disturbed face. The shorter man balanced his shotgun with one hand on his shoulder and for the first time after what seemed like days or weeks Soldier remembered that the Engineer, too, had been attacked and injured. He made a quick decision.

"Boys!" he shouted abruptly, and everyone stopped short, looking at him. What was it now?

"Erm..." Damn, he hadn't thought of an explanation first. Didn't matter. "Engineer and I go back. Um, the Medic is more or less on his own, with the Sniper in his desolate state. Kind of, er, unfair, to leave the responsibility of protecting our supplies to him alone. That's why you, Engineer, are going to improve our defense, and I'm going to assist. No back talk! You there," He pointed out at the three men in front of him, "You better come back with Scout and Spy, all of you alive, GOT IT, MAGGOTS?"

The three mercenaries first looked at each other, then again at the Soldier. "Got it!"

"Good boys, really good. Let's go, Engineer."

Without a word, they turned around and walked back while the rest of their group continued.

Once he was sure they were out of earshot, the Texan spoke first.

"John, what was that about? Don't yar tell me ya still after Medic because of yar silly accusations?" he approached him.

"Ungrateful punk. I should have told them that an injured Engineer is worthless at the front." was the grumbled answer.

"Stubborn yankee." the Engineer smiled, he understood what the man wanted to say. "Apology accepted. And thanks for worryin'..."

"Don't mention it. Let's hurry now, hard-head." He knocked teasingly at the Engineer's helmet. "The sooner we are back, the sooner you can have a rest. After checking our defense. Cannot allow to look unreliable in front of the others, or all of them will think they can ignore my orders. Let me carry that thing."

"Oh, shut up, ah can handle a little shotgun by maself, ahm not an invalid yet."

x x x x x

The Medic hadn't even noticed that he had fallen asleep until a sudden sound woke him up.

Once the others had left he had returned to the Sniper, being of two minds about staying back. Although he usually could defend himself he wasn't an offensive fighter as the others and probably not of much use anyway on their mission, but that didn't mean he liked that feeling of being useless. On the other hand he also wouldn't have liked to leave the sleeping, defenseless Sniper behind. It would have been irresponsible. Discontented with the whole situation, he had finally sat down on one of the free chairs, glaring musingly at the sleeping Sniper. He had stretched and put his legs on the table, trying to gain a more comfortable position. Finally, the weariness had been stronger than his decision to keep watch until the others returned.

The sound of two voices rudely awakened him. Confused he looked around, trying to recover his senses. The light was still on, Sniper still slept, two men were talking outside. A few seconds later he recognized them as Soldier and Engineer. How much time had passed? He stood up, quietly, carefully not to wake the Australian up, and joined the men in the corridor.

"Vhy are you already back? Have you found zhe Scout and Spy?" he asked, trying to ban the tiredness from his voice.

"Ah, Medic." Engineer smiled, then he shook his head. "No, unfortunately not. Soldier reconsidered and decided it was better to keep up a tight defense."

"Right." Soldier mumbled. "Medic, please check the Engineer's arm and overall condition before he sets to work. Don't lose too much time though."

The German nodded. "Let's go to zhe supply room, ve don't have to vake zhe Sniper zhen."

Soldier watched them silently as the Medic changed the bandages. Engineer moved his hand and muscles a few times when he was asked to, everything worked well. The wounds were healing quickly, although they still hurt and constrained the arm's radius of movements.

"Nozhing to vorry about, Herr Engineer." Medic nodded, satisfied. "You took care very vell. But don't get leichtsinnig... reckless."

"Alright doc, thanks. Damn, ahm thirsty now. And tired. Don't ya have anything against that in yar devil's workshop?"

Medic smiled. "Maybe, but zhe best medicine in zhat case vould be a strong cup of coffee. I zhink I shall prescribe one for myself as vell."

Engineer grinned back. "Let's go back to our comfy saloon then, 'kay with that, Soldier?"

"Sounds like heaven." the veteran growled. "But after all, the idea is good. Leave that to me, the brew you two use to call coffee is thinner than dishwater."

"Pah, bullshit. It seems to ya like that 'cause your muck is darker than hell's ass. But to tell ya the truth, that's just what ah need right now."

"Hell's ass?" Soldier asked, sounding shocked, but neither Engineer nor Medic missed the twitching of his mouth's corners.

"Stupid son of a bitch." Engineer chuckled, biting his tongue not to give another answer, passing a short glance at the Medic. No, but he would save his retort for later.

The German observed the exchanged looks between the two men but couldn't place them. But obviously the Soldier was more at ease now, more like his usual self, he hoped it would stay this way for a while. The human mind was a dangerous, unpredictable thing sometimes, especially when it had crossed the bridge between sanity and madness.

"Dammit" the Soldier cursed, distracting Medic from his thoughts. Engineer had taken a seat and watched the man as he scolded the coffee maker.

"Is the darn thing broken?"

"No, there's no water. Just great. Wait a minute." With the pot in his hand, he went for the bathroom. Sighing, Medic sat down on a chair at the opposite of the Texan.

"Fine. Zhe heating shouldn't vork as ve are separated from zhe main parts of zhe train. And now zhe vater supplies fail us as vell..."

"Nah, don't worry too much, Medic." Engineer stifled a yawn. "We are still connected with the tank, even if the tap is broken, we won't die of thirst. What's up, yankee, ahm still waitin' for ma cuppa Joe!" he called across the room when Soldier returned.

"You have to wait a bit longer, no water there as well. Damn." He returned to the counter and opened a bottle of soda. "You think you can look into that matter later, Engie?"

"No problem, Sir, but gimme ma coffee first."

x x x x x

"Look at this!" Heavy suddenly shouted and the other two men walked over to him.

"'at is it? Ah!" Pyro called out when he followed the Heavy's hint.

"Aye, shiver me timbres! Tyre tracks!" Demo exclaimed.

Indeed, clearly visible in the sand the two typical tracks of Jeep tires could be seen, coming from behind one of the boulders, now parallel to the railway.

They followed them when suddenly, they took a left turn, away from the tracks.

"What now?" the Russian asked, indecisive, but his comrades were equally uncertain.

"Either we follow them tracks... or _them_ tracks." Demo shrugged.

"G'eat, t'at 'elps a'lt..." the Pyro muttered sarcastically.

"This is trap maybe." Heavy noted. "Maybe this is bait. Maybe not. Maybe favor we should do for them." He smiled at the others. "Let's make leetle men happy."

"Aye!" Demo agreed. "Geeve them bellends something they'll reemember."

They left the railway behind, following the tire tracks into the wasteland.

x x x x x x

"Gawd, it's cold..." Scout's teeth chattered. He had no idea how long he and the Spy had been in their cold, wet prison. All warmth was gone from both their bodies, his arms and legs had stopped hurting a while ago. He still struggled to keep the other man's head above the water and he hadn't given up talking to him.

"Goddamned motherfucker, he ain't gonna do us in, right? Don't ya worry, they gonna find us soon. I won't let ya die. Fuckin' cold..." For a second, he couldn't help closing his eyes, but he opened them again abruptly when he breathed in water. He almost lost his grip of the cold body when he coughed, gasping for air. "Please, come soon..."

x x x x x x

Despite the circumstances the three men felt oddly relaxed, sitting in the broad armchairs, each of them holding a cup of steaming hot coffee, the smell emitting an illusion of comfort.

"Ah wonder how the others are doin'..." Engineer finally said, taking another sip. He hadn't exaggerated, Soldier's idea of coffee left an extremely bitter taste in his mouth, but it had an undeniable, revitalizing effect on him and his brain.

"Zhey have not been zhe target of our enemies' assaults, have zhey? I hope zhe boy is alright, alone he vould be an easy victim..."

"The boy is quick, I doubt they can catch him easily." Soldier interrupted. "What should they do, throw him in a pool of glue?"

Medic shrugged.

"Ve vere attacked vhen ve vere separated from zhe group, everyone except Engineer."

"Yea, but maybe Smith didn't expect me to have somebody for company when ah work with my Sentries."

"Sounds logical. Spy wasn't alone, but... his attack was not very specific, most of us are at least casual smokers. Being caught while investigating was more like it." the Soldier added. "Medic confronted with drugs, you with a manipulated Sentry, Sniper being the prey for a change..."

'Ah wonder if that darn motherfucker has somethin' to do with yar sudden change of behavior.' Engineer thought, but kept that question to himself. Somehow things were falling into place now.

"Zhey mocked us, but didn't kill us right avay..." Medic continued. "Instead, zhey leave us in zhe desert, cut off zhe vater supplies... break zhe team apart... Vhat could happen next? Somezhing vizh Demo's explosives? Heavy's Sasha? Vhat's vizh Pyro's Flamezhrover? As for zhe Scout... probably his legs. Anozher hunt... maybe... " he mused.

"Well... there haven't been two similar attacks yet." Soldier shook his head. "And that water problem should be easily solved before the others are back. After all we still have control over the tank. That sissy is slacking off!"

"Hm." Engineer had followed the men's conversation in silence. "Water... individual assaults... no other hunt... pool..." Suddenly he jumped from his seat. "Fuck! Come with me! Quick!"

He ran for the exit, the others watched him in amazement.

"What's wrong, Engie? Something has bitten you?"

"Shut up, idiot! Didn't ya say it yarself, pool of glue? Dysfunctional water pipes... Scout missing... Pool, what's usually in a pool, where do we have a pool of water? Now hurry and pray I'm wrong!"

They were thunderstruck when they finally understood.

"Fuck."

x x x x x x

"Did ya hear that, Jean? Someone's comin'. Better be quiet..." Scout pressed himself closer to the wall when he heard footsteps above his head. Careful not to make more noise than necessary he tried to move back into one of the corners. Anticipating the worst he chewed on his lip, not feeling any pain. For all he knew their captor might be back. The hatched opened and a ray of light illuminated the dark room, reflected by the almost smooth surface of the water.

"SOMEBODY IN HERE?" a voice shouted, and Scout recognized it at once.

"Help..." he coughed. His throat hurt, he was hoarse, from all the screaming and from the cold. "Help... SOLDIER! HERE! HELP US, PLEASE, HELP US! SPY IS HERE! HE'S DYING! HELP!" he croaked, feeling certain his voice was too low, he probably didn't hear him, Soldier would go away, close the hatch, leave them in the dark, until they both died...

"HELP! DON'T GO! GET ME OUT OF HERE! SOLDIER!"

"OKAY BOY, I HEAR YOU, CALM DOWN! WE GET YOU OUT OF THERE!" Soldier shouted back. "Okay," He turned around and faced the Engineer and the Medic. "From what I see here's a ladder we can let down. Engie, how do I operate that thing?"

"That's easy, just unlock those clasps, that's it." With a shattering noise a folding ladder rattled downwards.

"YO BOY, YA HEAR ME?" the Texan shouted. "JUST CLIMB THAT DARN THING!"

"NO WAY! SPY'S HERE, HE'S TOO WEAK! SOMEONE HAS TO COME DOWN AND HELP HIM!"

"Spy? Großer Gott..." Medic flinched. That didn't sound good, not at all.

"Medic, you go, help Spy up." Soldier ordered shortly. The situation was dire, and for a moment the doubtful, warning voice in his head drowned his voice of reason. Maybe this was a good test of the Medic's loyalty. The German nodded, not too delighted, but he, too, didn't want to lose more time. Careful not to slip he climbed down the shaky ladder.

"Scout, do you hear me?" He narrowed his eyes until he got used to the darkness. At the other side of the tank he could see the silhouette of the boy. "Come closer, please, do you have Spy vizh you? I vill carry him, please come now."

"See, I told ya." Scout whispered, pushing himself off the wall. A mistake, as his numb, worn out legs failed to move when he tried to swim. He tried to call for help, but only swallowed water, his body dragged downwards by the dead Spy he refused to let go.

'So close...'

Then he felt being pulled upwards.

"Dummkopf." the Medic scolded while he swam back. It took only two or three strokes, but with the weight of his own wet clothes, of the Scout and the body the boy was still clinging to it was extremely strenuous. He was relieved when he reached the ladder and heard the boy coughing and breathing.

"Here, hold to zhe ladder, good." he said when Scout followed his words. "Hold tight, understood? I'll take care of Spy and come back for you in a minute. Scheiße..." He couldn't be fooled. The moment he touched the man's body he knew he was dead. How could Scout think he was still alive?

'First man dead...'

Somehow he succeeded in climbing the ladder with the load of the corpse but he was grateful when he felt how Soldier took the dead body from his shoulder.

"Lay him on zhe ground, I vill get Scout now! Vait for me before you do anyzhing!" He was already back on his way down when he heard Engineer and Soldier curse.

It was almost as hard as carrying the dead Spy. Scout was unable to move much, his whole body shivered from the cold and he was exhausted, physically and mentally. The Medic was glad when both of them had finally left the tank.

"Careful now." Half carrying, half dragging the boy along he climbed down the bulky container and joined the two Americans, who stared disbelievingly at the man on the ground.

The boy had to be taken care of quickly, yet there was the Spy... What do do first... but Scout had already broken away from him, somehow mobilizing some last reserves of strength, and kneeled down next to the body.

He shook him by the shoulders, slapped him. "Open your eyes! Come on, man, open your eyes! We are free, I promised ya, now just wake up, ya can't sleep now, ya hear! OPEN YOUR EYES!" he cried, his voice failing him.

"Stop it, son, calm down!" Engineer said gently, patting the Scout's shoulder. "He ain't gonna wake up..."

"Shut up!" he sobbed. "Yar lying! Yar lying..."

Medic shivered, both from the cold wind blowing against his wet clothes and hair, and from the scene happening in front of his eyes. This feeling of helplessness was irritating.

"Stand up, Scout." he ordered, harsher than intended. "Zhe man is dead, and you vill be dead soon, too, if you don't pull yourself togezher. Vhat is zhis..." When he dragged the boy away from the corpse it was the first time he really looked at the man. The tightly sewn lips weren't the reason for his bewilderment, he had seen and done worse things in his past. But the shape of the skull, the whole body...

"Here, hold him." The Medic shoved the Scout into the Soldier's arms and took a closer look. He sat down next to him and removed his mask - and gasped in surprise.

"Zhis is not Spy..." He stood up and took a step aside so the others could see. Soldier and Engineer didn't trust their eyes, shock mixed with relief when they saw the mutilated head with the broken skull didn't belong to the Spy but...

"Smith..."

"This can't be..."

"I'm sick... I think I'm gonna..."

Medic checked Smith's corpse for the lethal injury when the Scout started to throw up a few steps away, too weak to stand or kneel on his own, held by Soldier while Engineer tried to calm him.

x x x x x

"Fuck, seems like ah missed a lot, mates..." Sniper sat on the table and put his shirt on. "Thanks." With an appreciating nod he took the cup of coffee Engineer handed him. He continued watching Medic and Soldier as they helped the Scout to warm up.

"I hope zhis von't make him sick again, Soldier." the German growled while he held another cup of coffee, enriched with a shot of Scotch, added by the veteran despite the Medic's protest.

"Don't fuss around, sissy, nothing warms a man better than some good liquor. Don't you agree, boy?" He patted the slim legs he had been busy massaging to animate the blood circulation.

"Yeah..." Scout answered weakly, the bitter liquid actually made him feel nauseous again, but it also warmed him up, so he wasn't sure if he liked drinking it or not. He certainly was sure about one thing – he was really fed up with being cold. Cold showers, cold snow, cold deserts, cold water... a cold body...

He shivered.

"So Spook's missin', spy-napped by Smith and his gang, then the gang locked Scout up in the tank with Spoi who wasn't Spoi but Smith... who's dead..." Sniper concluded, his head buzzing from this strange story. "That's some crazy shit..."

"And the shit's gettin' crazier, laddie."

Everyone turned around, staring at the Demoman who had just entered. The Scot grinned widely, his one eye sparkling with delight.

x x x x x x to be continued x x x x x

_Another case of "I have no idea how to name this bitch." Meh. But I like coffee, but I prefer it with milk, some sugar_

_and cinnamon.  
><em>

_This was supposed to end with another scene, but suddenly there were already 7 pages (at least in Oppen office.)_

_So I decided t omake a cut at a good point that leaves no questions unanswered :)  
><em>

_And continued right away with 21. So, 21 is finished as well and I won't have much to do until next Saturday, when I'm going to upload it, yeah :D_

_Do we need translations? *checks* oh, yes, sorry, here they come:_

_Medic:_  
><em>"Haben sich heute alle gegen mich verschworen..." = "Have all of you conspired against me today?"<em>

_Pyro:_  
><em>"ri't, is'out 'our a'g'ring S'ct w'dn't 'ave 'un 'way t'e 'irst 'ace" = "Right, without our arguing Scout wouldn't have run away in the first place."<em>

_"G'eat, t'at 'elps a'lt..." = "Great, that helps a lot..."_

_Medic:_  
><em>"Großer Gott..." = "My God!"<em>

_"Scheiße..." = fuck... (although the direct translation would be "shit", I think "fuck" is more appropriate)_


	21. Chapter 21

_[Author's note] Warning, it's getting a bit, uh, naughty? Anyway, I have tons of things to say in my defense, so... Try me xD challenge accepted (you know what I'm talking about once you've read through this chapter, I think.) Translations at the bottom, as usual [/Author's note]_

**Snowbowl 21 – Show me love**

The Demoman's grin changed from amusement to plain triumph as he stepped aside. Heavy entered the room and placed himself next to the door, followed by Pyro who supported a limping, faintly smiling figure.

"Bien, mes amis, je suis heuruex... I am 'appy to see you again."

"Spy..."

"Aah!"

"Verdammt, Vorsicht!" Hastily, Medic tried to wipe the hot coffee away from the Scout's bare chest. In their amazement they both had failed to hold the cup, but the boy didn't notice the burning pain on his skin.

"You are... alive... man..."

Then he cried.

x x x x x

"Take cover, lads, or they gonna see yer big heads." Demo hissed, waving his hand around.

"Pah, not afraid of tiny leetle men I am." Heavy snorted back.

They had followed the tracks for a while until they reached another formation of rocks and boulders. The Pyro carefully sneaked up the bend the tracks took and spotted a parking Jeep, surrounded by five men wearing uniforms of gray pants and red shirts. Easy to see from afar after sunrise. All of them were equipped with guns and probably close combat weapons. He would have had to get closer to be sure, but then he would have given his position away. Quietly, he walked back and informed his team-mates.

"It certainlee is a trap." Demo exclaimed at once.

"'ont s'y..." Pyro commented. "'tis o'vious. 'at do 'e do no'?"

"Easy this is, da!" Heavy patted his gun affectionately. "Show men Sasha's strength. This is trap, but this, this is bullets." he grinned. "See them trap bullets. And," he added, more seriously, "tiny car ours will be. Or... afraid you are?"

"Ha! Yer kiddin' me! Send them seein' Davy Jones I say!"

"'et's 'o!" Pyro lifted his flamethrower. "'m 'eddy."

x x x x x

"That's more or less the story, laddies." Demo finished his recount of the events. "We gave them arseholes the low-down alright!" Pyro and Heavy joined his laughter, all three of them obviously content with themselves.

"Once they were no more than a heap of burned, bullet-riddled scumbags, we raided the damned car. Eet is ours now." he grinned.

"And?" Soldier urged him to continue when Demoman didn't speak on, enjoying the little, dramatic pause.

"And? And then, we opened the trunk and guess what we found." With a chuckle he pointed at the Spy, who now sat on one of the other chairs with his own cup of Soldier's special brew.

"That's the craziest bullshit ah ever heard." Engineer shook his head, glad that they all were back together of course, but so many unanswered questions...

"Well, I say things turned out better than expected. But..." Soldier frowned. "After all, we are back at the beginning. To sum things up – we are stranded in the desert. The team is complete, but the bastard is still on the loose. I think we can assume that things now are really getting south, with Smith dead and a madman unleashed..."

"Un moment, s'il vous plaît!" Spy exclaimed in surprise. "Qu'est-ce que vous dites? Ah, I mean, what did you say, Monsieur Soldier? Smiz? Dead? Is this... a joke?"

"No..." Scout answered for the veteran, his voice still low and hoarse.

"Don't strain yourself, boy." Soldier ordered him gently and filled the Spy in. About what happened, how the Scout went missing, how they set out to find him, finally got him out of the tank he had been thrown into with a dying man he was supposed to believe being the Spy. And how they found out the dead body wasn't the French, but nobody else but Smith himself, severely beaten and almost strangled to death. At least enough to break his tongue bone and disable him to speak. But to be sure he really wouldn't give his identity away, or just because on a sick, perverted whim, his murderer had sealed his lips with needle and thread.

"Mon dieu..." Spy was aghast. "Zis is... I don't know what to say... disgusting..." He mustered up a smile and looked at Scout. "Zis sounds strange but... zank you, Scout. You almost died because you zought you helped me..."

"Don't mention it." Scout blushed and looked away. "How are ya anyway?"

"Zhis is a good question, sorry I haven't had a look at you yet, Herr Spy." Medic sighed. "Zhe last hours vere very busy and zhe Scout vas in a vorse condition... Vhat's vizh your face? You have a black eye and your nose looks svollen..."

"Ah, zis is not so bad, mon ami." the Spy reassured him. "Zis subordinate of ze late monsieur Smiz, he teased me, provoking a bare fist fight, promising to let me go if I won... but quelle malheur... I lost within seconds... and to zink zey used me as a bait to capture poor jeune Scout... Abominable!" he cursed in disgust, looking gravely at the boy.

"Are you sure everyzhing is alright vizh you?" Medic inquired once more sceptically.

"Mais bien sure, Monsieur Medic. Alors, I have to admit... my head hurts and I need, how do ze Americans say... I need to eat like a mule..."

"A horse, ya mean." The Engineer chuckled.

"Mule, horse, I eat zem boz. Ah bien. Does any of you dear gentlemen have a cigarette for me?"

x x x x x

It was already noon when the reunited team finally settled down. None of them, except the Sniper, had rested this night, and he, too, was still tired and exhausted, his body hadn't recovered yet from the hunt and the after-effects of the Medic's drug and the unpleasant treatment that had followed. Furthermore, part of his sleep had been restless; nightmares had crept into his head and although he had already forgotten about them, an uneasy feeling was still there and refused to go away. Then there was the incident between Medic and Soldier, and the story of the German's past. Too many unresolved matters.

Medic himself was beyond the point of exhaustion. He had been very tired, the short nap while he had been waiting for the return of the rest of the team hadn't helped at all, on the contrary. But after all the events of the night and the morning hours, treating the Scout, discovering Smith's corpse, the Spy's return... then there was the incident between him and the Soldier, his conversation with the Sniper about his own past... his nerves were raw. Restless and irritable he had sat down with a book from one of the shelves - glad they weren't just decoration - and turned the pages impatiently, finding it hard to concentrate.

"Ya should rest, Will." Sniper, who half sat, half lay on the chair next to him, whispered. "Ya look tired."

"I know, but I can't." he snapped, then he sighed. "Please, don't tease me now..."

"Don't worry." He pulled his hat over his eyes. Between the spare clothes he had found a new one he had ignored before, it wasn't _his._ But better than nothing. From the corner of his eye he watched the Medic, then he was asleep again.

Most of them felt like sleeping, now that they sat in the more comfortable room again, and after having a not too gorgeous, but filling meal of tinned meat and vegetables. Spy indeed was hungry, and after a third helping the color returned to the visible parts of his face and he seemed more lively and recovered, as the Medic noted, satisfied. All the French would need now was some rest, like the others did. He focused again on the pages of his book, shutting his mind away from his surroundings; after a while he could even ignore the Demo's and Heavy's snoring.

Even the Engineer had closed his eyes, after spending the last hour with their defense. A Sentry, hidden from the sight of possible intruders, had been placed close to the door between the second compartment and the third. Well, where the third should have been.

As there were no windows to secure, he only put some locking devices to the doors, with a little help of Soldier. Without the correct numerical code none of the doors could be open now.

Pyro was about to sleep a bit, too, but first he looked after his weapon. It had proved itself to be very useful again, and he treated it with affection and respect. Now and then he glanced at Scout, who tried to sleep but seemed equally restless as their Medic. Pyro pitied the boy, he had been through some very unpleasant events recently.

Across the room, Spy was talking to Soldier, both their faces showing grave expressions at first when Spy reported what he had witnessed during his absence. Unfortunately, it wasn't much, as he only remembered how he woke up, tied to a table, then forced to fight a strange, aggressive man whose face was covered with scars. All he could think of was the man's hatred for Smith, and probably, they all knew the result by now. He asked the Soldier something else, and both looked at the Scout. The American seemed thoughtful for a second, and finally nodded.

"Cheer him up a bit, I think you are the right person for this."

Pyro listened to them sceptically. 'I'm not too sure about _him_ being the right person to cheer him up...' But he didn't say anything, only watched as Spy went over to Scout and touched him lightly at his shoulder.

"Bien, Scout, may I have a word viz you?" the French asked softly and the boy blushed.

"What's wrong?"

"Nozing. Moi, I just want to spend a few moments wiz you, alone. I asked Monsieur Soldier for some privacy, et bien, we can talk in ze conference room. Do you come viz me?" Gently, he stroke the Scout's cheek.

"'ait, S'y." Pyro suddenly broke in when Scout stood up from his lounger. "I 'ave t' 'sk 'cout s'think, 'y 'nt 'ou go a'ead, 'e c'mes 'ater."

The Spy glared at the short, masked man for a second, then his eyes only looked a bit puzzled.

"Bien. Please 'urry, Scout, I zink all of us are tired, I do not want to waste too much time." Stiffly, he turned around and went away alone.

"Pyro, what the fuck was that about?" Scout hissed once Spy had left the room.

"'nt do s'thing st'pid, 'cout!" he warned, hardly hearable as he didn't want the others to listen. "R'mber 'ow 'aken 'ou 'ere 'ast t'me?"

"Gah, shuddap, told ya before, that's none of yar business. Like I'd do something I don't want." he snorted, but inside, he felt a pang and another wave of sickness as he remembered the last time he was alone with the Spy. Not the Smith-Spy. But he shoved the thoughts aside.

"I 'ink 'ou 'ouldn't..." Pyro continued, but Scout interrupted him.

"Fuck off."

"'ell, 's 'ong 's 'ou r'mber t'ose 'ords... I 'ouldn't 'orry..."

x x x x x

"Jean?" Scout asked hesitatingly as he entered the room. The bright light hurt his weary eyes. Taking another pull from a cigarette, blowing the smoke in the boy's direction, Spy sat there, in the chair Sniper had used for his rest before, and waited for him.

"Scout, close and lock ze door, s'il te plaît." He smiled reassuringly, nodding at the Scout

"Um, sure..." Remembering Pyro's warning, he felt uneasy, but then he scolded himself. What the fuck was wrong with him? He should be happy the man was alive and back, and wanted to see him, alone. 'Stupid mumbles, what does HE know anyway?'

"Come closer, come to me, mon Scout. Zere, zat's better." Scout stood right in front of him. Spy bent forward, took the boy's hand in his and kissed it gently.

"I am glad to be back. Are you glad zat I am back, too, Scout?" he inquired, smiling as the youth's face blushed. The boy nodded.

"Good. You really zought it was me, when you were caught in ze water... all dark and alone... clinging to my dead body..."

"It wasn't you! It was Smith, that fuckin' bastard!" Scout exclaimed, disgusted and scornful when he remembered how he had held the corpse of that detestable man so close to his body... only the body of the man who imprisoned him and attacked his team-mates, including Spy, would probably have been worse, dead or alive.

"Shh, don't get upset, mon ami, it is over, I am 'ere and really 'appy to see you again." He pulled Scout down, reached up for his face and kissed him slowly. On an impulse, the boy almost backed away, but controlled himself. He opened his mouth to let him in, and finally, hesitatingly, answered the kiss, enjoyed it, the bitter, spicy aftertaste from the cigarettes, the warm mouth against his, feeling the Spy's breath, the experienced, moist tongue against his... His cheeks burned and for a moment he feared his still tired legs would give in, but then, Spy leaned back into his chair, letting go of the Scout's hand, and pushed him away, looking over him.

Inwardly, the boy felt nervous, because of the stare, because of everything - not knowing what he was supposed to do next. He didn't want the kiss to end so soon, and... what was he expected to do?

"Ah, mon petit, it cannot be 'elped I zink." Spy finally sighed, like he had just given up hope.

"Did I... did I do somethin' wrong...?"

"Non, non, it is just..." he sighed again. "You still seem to be too shy, mon ami. Zis will not do. But - don't worry, I can teach you, n'est-ce pas? Do you want me to do zat?" He looked at the boy inquisitively.

Scout felt how something inside of him winced, crying out in alarm, but his yearning to be closer to the man he had thought lost - and his curiosity - were stronger. He told this inner voice to shut up and nodded.

"Good boy." Now the French smiled kindly at him. "Don't overzink it, don't be afraid. Love, it is not easy, non? Just listen to me. Now, be good and undress." He chuckled as a shadow of fear showed on the Scout's face for a second.

"I don't know..." he said reluctantly. In his past, it was usually him who was in control, to be suddenly ordered about was new to him and he wasn't sure he liked it.

"Ah ah, do not overzink I said. Now, do you not trust me? Undress now." he repeated impatiently, with a frown.

Scout shivered slightly as he took off the thick jacket that had kept him warm, feeling more and more uneasy under the Spy's sharp eyes. He pulled his shirt over his head. The chill still in his bones, he was promptly freezing again, more so when he opened the belt of his pants.

The French watched him closely when the boy put down his trousers, enjoying the tentative look on his features.

Taking a deep breath, Scout glared back at Spy, almost sulky.

"Zis is not all, Scout. You forgot somezing." He smiled - at his words, the boy blushed even more.

"I..." He stared at the ground when he felt how Spy's eyes focused on his hips. Then he shrugged and took off his underwear as well.

For a moment, none of them spoke. Scout just stood there, his bare body exposed to the French man who openly leered at him. He neither looked at the man, nor did he dare to drop his gaze again as he felt how his body reacted to the situation. It was scary how he could be aroused in a moment like this, when he felt all awkward. All he wished for now was a kind, reassuring word from the Spy, feeling him close. Chewing on his lips nervously, he tried to focus a point at the wall behind Spy's head. Why didn't he say something?

Finally, Spy nodded approvingly.

"You 'ave a nice body, Scout. And it seems to know better what you need zan yourself. Come closer." His voice was deep and growling, demanding. And luring. Although it was teasing him, it echoed in Scout's head, the husky, confident tenor thrilled him.

"Zere, good boy." His cigarette still between the fore- and second finger of his right hand, he seized the youth by his hip, urging him to sit down on his lap.

"My, you really are nervous." he remarked, the anticipation clearly visible on Scout's face. Gently, he traced along the boy's sternum, licking his lips when he noticed how this little touch sent shivers down the Scout's spine.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered, his voice shaking, filled with tension, fear but also an unmistakable yearning. The way Spy touched him felt good and he wanted more, even if he still wore his gloves.

"Non, do not be. To tell you ze truz, zis is very delicious. Do you want anozer kiss, young Scout?" He pulled the boy's head down and kissed him again, gently, deeply, allowing him to ease his mind and finally relax a bit.

"Feel better? Fine." he answered the Scout's nod and threw the now burnt-out cigarette to the ground. "Do you like it when I do... zis?" Grinning, he held Scout's face with one hand, observing his expression when his free hand wandered deeper, his finger closing around him, drawing a surprised moan from the boy.

"Answer me, do you like zat?" he asked again.

"Y...yeah..." Scout groaned, enjoying the touch, feeling the warmth of the Spy's hand through the gloves.

"Do you remember ze last time, when I pressed you against ze wall... kissed your zroat... shoved my fingers into your slim, 'andsome body... and zen... fucked you... made you come? You liked to be fucked 'ard, didn't you, mon petit?"

The youth tensed again, but the memory had changed in his head, suddenly appearing less painful and scary. Warm skin against his, the very idea that Spy, who had rejected him so cruelly before, suddenly wanted him...

Spy smiled as he noticed how the boy's arousal even increased.

"Don't you zink... it is a bit unfair... to 'ave all ze fun, last time, zis time... while I do all ze work? Get up now!" the French suddenly ordered, almost shoving him from his lap, making the boy cringe, and insecurity and tension returned, but Scout obeyed at once.

"You really are a good student." Spy chuckled. "Do not worry, I won't ask you to do impossible zings. Let's play a bit, oui?" He started to remove his tie from his neck.

"Whaddya... what do ya mean...?" Scout asked, shyly. The Spy's sudden change of mood made him more nervous than before.

"Ah, let me surprise you, jeune Scout. Now please, be a nice boy and turn around."

Scout's eyes stared at the tie in the man's hand, guessing what was about to happen. Suddenly he remembered how he woke up a few hours before, after being captured, his hands bound and eyes covered, not knowing where he was and who was with him... Abruptly, he shook his head.

"I don't..."

"Scout!"

The youth gave a start at the sharp sound of the voice.

"Pretty, 'andsome Scout." Spy chided, a bit softer while he gently stroked the boy's waist.

"Didn't I ask you to trust me? To let me teach you? Did you miss me at all, Scout?" The French sounded sad now, disappointed, his eyes looking beseechingly up to the youth, his fingertips still resting on his skin.

Insecure and indecisive what to do, Scout raised his hands, scratched his head, thinking of something to say. Helpless.

"Scout." Spy took one of the restless hands, his fingers intertwined with Scout's. "Do you love me?" The boy nodded.

"Zen trust me and turn around. Come, be good. You don't know what to do wiz your 'ands anyway, do you?" He gave him an encouraging smile and finally, Scout did what he was told to. He trembled when Spy took both of the boy's hands and tied them firmly together with his tie.

"Can you free yourself?"

Scout pulled at the bonds. The more he tried, the more the fabric seemed to tighten.

"Non, calm down, everyzing is fine." Spy whispered soothingly when Scout was about to panic.

"This is scary..." the young man said quietly.

"Just remember 'ow much you love me and 'ow much you love it when I touch and kiss you, and everyzing will be good." the Spy answered casually. He looked at the boy's shaking back, observed how he resisted the impulse to try freeing himself. The Spy's own pants tightened – he opened the buttons and pushed them down to his ankles.

"Turn around now."

Scout did as he was told, biting on his lips when he saw the half-naked Spy.

"My, stop zat, you will 'urt yourself if you bite yourself all ze time." the older man teased him, then he gestured him to step between his legs.

"Take care not to stumble, understood? Good. Now – down wiz you."

"What...?"

"Oh Scout, you understand quite well, I can see zis in your beautiful eyes. Please stop questioning everyzing I ask you to do. I want you to go down on your knees, open your pretty mouz and suck me until I tell you to stop, clear enough?" He smiled again, but it was colder than before. "I make you feel good, you make me feel good, what's ze big deal, Scout?"

"I haven't done that before..." the youth admitted, shy and ashamed. He hated how he reacted, hated he felt scared and insecure. This was Spy, he was alive. Hadn't he, Scout, promised he would do anything for him if he only stayed alive? Swallowing his doubts and fear, he kneeled down, between the man's long legs and carefully started to lick. It tasted salty.

"Yes, zis is good." the man sighed. "See? Does not 'urt at all. Don't 'esitate, mon petit. Show a little more spirit." he encouraged him.

Feeling a bit more confident, Scout opened his mouth and took him in by a third of the full length, slowly using his tongue, trying to remember what he liked the girls in his past to do. He started to suck, gently first, then stronger, occasionally using his teeth, careful not to actually bite. To do this to another man... was strange, but not bad, and although he wished to use his hands it was actually okay not to be expected to do something with them. At least, he wouldn't do something wrong. He concentrated on his tongue and the man's breathing. Obviously, he didn't do something wrong now.

"Aah, Scout, you are talented after all." Moaning, Spy pushed deeper but stopped when the youth moved back. Gently, he ruffled the Scout's hair.

Feeling his jaw hurting a bit from this unusual strain, Scout withdrew, but a firm hand hindered him. He looked up at the Spy, puzzled, when the French pressed against his head, shoving in deeper.

"Don't fight back, Scout. Learn ze next lesson. Make your teacher proud of you." Spy smiled down at him, his eyes greedy and flickering dangerously when Scout tried to move back again.

'It's just a blow-job... girls do that easily... nothing to be scared of... I can do that, and do it good!' he tried to calm himself, allowing the man to thrust forward. Suddenly it was too deep, he winced at the sudden urge to throw up and coughed, stertorously.

The French pulled back, just enough not to stimulate the gag reflex, but he didn't let the boy's head go.

"Focus, Scout. Focus and breaze zrough your nose." he commanded him. "We won't stop zis lesson until you've learned it. Now be a good boy, I know you can take it in completely. Prove yourself worzy."

Too much. Too fast.

He looked at him imploringly, almost pleading, but Spy shook his head as he slowly thrust deeper once more. Scout closed his eyes and tried to follow the man's advice and concentrated on breathing through his nose. At first, it worked, but when he had taken half of him in, he started coughing again.

"You know, zis doesn't feel too bad, mon petit." Spy praised him gently, wiping some saliva from the boy's chin. He waited a few seconds until Scout had stopped coughing.

"Better?"

But the youth could neither answer nor nod.

Spy shrugged. "Obviously." And shoved down the Scout's throat completely.

The thin body tried to rise up, arching on the urgent impulse to draw back, but Spy didn't let him.

"Concentrate!" he ordered sharply, his fingers digging into the boy's hair. "Ah oui... this feels great." the French groaned.

Scout breathed faster, suppressing the urge to gag, unable to speak or even move his tongue. Once he finally overcame the reflex, all he could do was to hold still and look at the Spy, at the desire in the man's face, the closed eyes, the cheeks, from what Scout could see, flushed - how he licked his lips as he moved faster. The youth forced himself to breathe regularly and it became easier. He tried to swallow, the contraction of the muscles seemed to arouse the French even more.

Suddenly, Scout felt a wave of warm liquid rushing down his throat. Automatically, he struggled again, but the Spy only groaned at the movement. Finally, the pulsating in his mouth stopped and the man released him, leaving a salty, bitter tasting trail on the boy's tongue as he pulled out.

The youth coughed violently, fighting once more the urge to throw up. How long would it take to get used to that? Yet he felt a hint of satisfaction. Obviously he was able to give some pleasure to the man after all.

"I told you to breaze zrough ze nose, Scout." Spy reminded him with a chuckle and caught him before Scout lost his balance. "Zere, zere, it is better now, is it not? You are a good boy, mon Scout, very good." Gently, he stroked the flushed cheeks, drawing him closer, and kissed him slowly. His free hand caressed the boy's hips, causing a shiver.

"Better?" he asked warmly once he drew back. The Scout nodded, moving his wrists against the sleek fabric.

"Do you... untie me now..." he whispered hoarsely.

"Non, mon amour, not yet." The French kissed him again, slightly biting his lips. "I will show you more, or are you afraid?" With his eyes opened wide and questioning, he leaned back, avoiding to contact the young man's body that half kneeled between his legs, half bent over him.

"N..no... I'm not..." Scout answered, hesitatingly, his voice weak and shaky, and the light smile in the Spy's face changed into a grin.

"I'm glad to hear zat." He searched his pocket and got out another piece of fabric Scout recognized as a second tie. The boy's back stiffened.

"Whaddya want with..." But the Spy interrupted him with another kiss, long and passionate, answered by Scout with eagerness, hunger for more. Once the boy had relaxed again, Spy stopped.

"You have a beautiful, naughty mouth, mon amour, but I'm afraid it is better when I gag you now, n'est ce pas, don't you agree?" the French whispered, moving to the boy's ear, licking along the auricle.

"WHAT! NO!" Scout pulled back and almost lost balance again, trying to free his hands.

"Shhh, it is bien, good, Scout, do not be afraid." Spy embraced the youth by his shoulders, biting softly along his throat. "Zis is for your own good. I does not want toi to bite your lips again and 'urt yourself, and ze ozers, zey should not hear you when I... reward you, for your obedience. Do you understand?" His voice was gentle and mellow, his hands now held the naked body close.

"No, I mean... yes... but... I don't want that, please, Jean, I don't..." Burying his face in the Spy's shoulder, he felt like crying. 'Why can't ya just say you love me, or at least like me...' But he didn't dare to ask something like that aloud. Why did he have to be so weak?

"Alors, I could never force you, if you really do not want. But... Do you not trust me, mon Scout?" sounding disappointed, his fingers petted the Scout's hair, the boy's head against his chest. "Do you not zink I will make zis good for you?" His hand went deeper again, and when it found what it was searching, he stroked gently, but with a firm grip. Scout couldn't hide a groan.

"Don't you love me? Don't you trust me, Scout? Do yo not want to be mon petit putain?" Spy repeated, pushing the young man away as before so he was back between his legs.

"What does that mean...?" Scout asked, not even sure if he really wanted to know.

"Eh bien, zis is, how do you say... lover? Don't you want to?"

The youth didn't answer right away. But then, he nodded. That was what he wanted after all. Spy's hand felt so good...

"Okay." Almost not audible.

"Zis is mon Scout, my good boy. Zere, lean back a bit, yes? Open your mouz." From his other pocket he took a handkerchief.

Taking in a sharp breath, Scout obliged. This was Spy. He loved him and he trusted him. Nothing to be scared of.

"Do not forget to breaze zrough your nose." Spy advised again, shoving the crumbled up tissue into the boy's mouth, then binding his spare tie around his head, fixing the gag in place. He leaned back, watching the kneeling Scout, who stared at him, breathing fast, his eyes wide, clearly showing the boy's inner fight between his fears and his love for the man.

"My, aren't you delicious." He grinned even more, showing his teeth, when the youth started to tremble. The sight aroused him tremendously, it wouldn't need much more and he would be ready again. How enjoyable. Well, maybe there were a nice thing or two he might do to even increase the pleasure.

He bowed forward, taking Scout's face between his hands, moved closer and looked into his eyes.

"You are not scared, are you?" He inquired and watched him closely.

He shook his head, but his eyes told Spy something else. If he wanted to enjoy this little game longer, he had to strengthen the young man's trust in him. And in his desires.

"Come, stand up, mon Scout." he whispered gently, kissing the boy's cheek. The trembling subsided a bit and Scout got back on his feet, albeit his legs felt weaker than before. Spy slowly removed his gloves and put them on the table.

"Brave, jeune Scout. Let me repay you." His hands glided over the pale body, caressing the flat, well-toned abdomen, his waist, moving deeper, and when his tongue licked the sensitive skin Scout faintly moaned against the fabric in his mouth.

"Young men are so easy to arouse, don't you zink, mon cher?" Teasingly, his lips moved against the warm, smooth surface, causing the youth to bow down, desperate to somehow touch the French man.

"Ah, not now, be patient." Without looking or interrupting he fetched a small tube from the same pocket he had kept the second tie in and opened it with one hand, spilling some of the liquid on his fingers.

Scout didn't realize this until he felt something cold and wet when Spy shoved his hand between the young man's inner tights.

"Shh, don't step back, you will fall. Spread your legs a bit. Non, not zis again, Scout." He lifted his head, glaring at the boy. "I told you to do what I say before, and you agreed, didn't you? It was your decision to trust me, so don't be a coward now. See?" he asked in a kinder voice when Scout reluctantly opened his legs, feeling uncomfortable, standing like this, naked, bound and gagged in front of the Spy. Still, he enjoyed the warm fingertips on his body, if dealing with some strange stuff would mean more of it, he was ready to do whatever he was told. And what Spy did so far did feel good. Really good.

"Just enjoy it, okay? Zis will 'elp not to hurt you too much zis time." He kissed the boy's warm skin, aware of the increasing pulsating against his mouth when he pushed one finger into the Scout's trembling body, causing a deep, muffled moan as he easily glided in.

'Teens. Ridiculously easy to arouse indeed.' He used a second finger, not stopping to suck the young man gently, and moved them against the tight muscle, satisfied with the resulting shivers and stifled noises. He pushed deeper, using his second hand to support Scout, who was about to lose his balance when another, deeper groan tried to leave his mouth. Spy had to interrupt his licks and kisses, otherwise this part of the game would have ended too soon.

He didn't remove his fingers, but stopped the movement. When Scout finally calmed down a bit, his thumb glided over the skin that covered the boy's hip bone. An idea made him smile.

"Scout, listen. What would you say if I marked you as mine?" he suggested, his voice hoarse and deep and silken, almost loving, enough to coax Scout to nod. 'Whatever, just don't stop...'

"Good." His soft smile changed into a strange, unreadable grin. His one hand moved back, but didn't leave Scout's body, while his other hand took his knife from the table.

At the sudden, characteristic clicking sound, Scout opened his eyes, staring at the Spy in shock when he saw the expression in his eyes and the shiny blade in the man's hand.

Before he could react, the knife point already touched his skin.

He shouted something against his gag, but the shout turned into a moan when Spy's fingers thrust into him again, deep, until they reached this strange, incredibly sensitive spot inside of him.

"Never forget 'ow zis turned you on, cute, naughty Scout. And never forget, zis is a sign zat you belong to me, a sign of my affection for you." Spy chuckled as his hand thrust in over and over again while, with a quick, apt movement, he cut the boy's skin, leaving a blood covered, unreadable pattern on the Scout's body. The youth yielded, tried to scream, torn between horrible pain and an overwhelming lust for more, giving a frustrated, weak groan when Spy removed his hand and caught him just before the boy hit the ground.

"My, you are trembling, mon petit. Well, I zink you are ready for ze last lesson of ze day." Scout faintly shook his head. His hip hurt, he was tired, felt empty and confused, wishing only for one thing - having his hands free and leaning his head against the man's chest, inhaling the smell of tobacco, feeling the soft cotton touch his cheek. Yet another part of him, of his mind and body, yearned for something else, but... too much. Too much of everything.

"Now, Scout, you've deserved a rest. Sit down." Spy grinned amused, an unmistakable hunger in his eyes. Flinching at the jolt of pain from the fresh wound, Scout obeyed and clumsily climbed on top, assisted by Spy, answering the Spy's stare with his own, desperate need.

"Slowly now." the older man demanded as Scout lowered his body. "Zat's good, can you feel it? It's your fault I'm hard again, it's your turn to do somezing about it. Yesss..." he growled as Scout forced himself to take him in, groaning in pain as he still was too tight and tensed. But he pushed down harder when Spy touched him and pressed his thumb against the sensitive glans, connecting the otherwise contradictory sensations of pain and arousal to one irresistible emotion Scout couldn't name or grasp.

He had allowed him halfway in when he couldn't take it anymore. Scout shivered, his legs trembled and he winced as his muscles, his whole body, hurt. He wished he could touch the man, with his hands, his body, but even if he weren't bound, his position would have made it hard to move closer.

"It's too much for you now, is it not? Being tired, and scared, am I right, mon petit Scout? I'm sorry, I know I demand a lot from you. Do you forgive moi?" the Spy asked, worried. Scout looked at him, his eyes wide and moist, but also showing loving devotion. Yet, he clearly begged him to release him, from his bounds, his tension and the pain.

"I wish I could understand what you are trying to say, mon cher. Want me to 'elp you?" He caressed the boy's crimson cheek, moving over the alienated tie where it covered the boy's mouth and smiled when he nodded.

'Poor little, naïve Scout. I wish your beloved Spy could see you now. Wonder what that incompetent idiot would say?'

"As you wish, _mon__amour.__"__._He grabbed the Scout's hips and without a warning, he shoved him all the way down. Scout threw his head back, screaming, crying out in pain against the fabric when he thought his whole body was torn apart, the tie around his wrists cutting into his flesh when he tried to free his hands in panic.

"Zere, zere, Scout, it is okay. Ah, que tu es facile à anéantir; tu es même plus faible que les autres mauviettes!" He said, his voice soothing, and kissed the young man's chest playfully, still stroking him, slowly and faster by turns until he felt how the still sobbing Scout relaxed around him. He understood the inarticulate grunt without a problem.

"Ah, I just praised you, saying you are a really talented, charming, brave young man, and I regret zis is going to end soon, mon petit." An easy lie. "And now it's your time to fuck me, Scout. Make it good." He leaned back, gently touched the open, bleeding skin and covered his fingertips with the bright red blood, licking it with relish while he watched the Scout's distressed face when the youth started to move, slowly, carefully, trying his best to avoid as much pain as possible, but determined and eager to please the Spy.

The man loved the broken look that had found its way into the blue eyes, casting a dull shadow over the usual brightness, a shadow that probably would never vanish again.

The man's moans of lust mixed with the Scout's groans of pain and need, and he decided it was about time to finish today's lessons. A few, quick strokes with his hand to allow the boy the feeling of pleasure; another deep thrust into the trembling body. His fingertips pressed into the fresh, still bleeding cut. He made the boy cry out only a few seconds later and the white, warm liquid covered his hand. He didn't allow him to recover, instead, he seized his hip with both hands and he pushed again, harder, faster - turned on by the hot tightness, until he reached his own release, the second time today. Yes, this made up for all the annoying things he had had to deal with the last night.

He inhaled deeply and smiled, satisfied.

"Zis was even better zan ze last time, n'est-ce pas?" He wiped away the cold sweat from Scout's forehead before it ran into his eyes.

"Oh my, I made you cry? I'm so sorry, mon cher. Trust me, zis will be easier next time. Ze sooner you understand how delicious pain is, how much you need it for real, genuine arousal, ze sooner you will enjoy our meetings to ze fullest." He chuckled at the Scout's scared expression.

"I guess I really 'ave to be more gentle next time, oui? Well, if zat's what you wish... I zink you really deserve a little reward after today." Playfully, he petted the boy's cheek while he smiled at him fondly. "You are a lovely petit zing, mon cher. But now, please get up. I promised Soldier only to 'ave a little talk wiz you, to cheer you up, so you can sleep and rest well."

Scout twitched when he touched him by his hip again, and tried to remove himself from the man, his legs about to fail him.

"Alors, poor, fast Scout, no more strength left in your beautiful legs?" the man teased him, but somehow the youth managed to stand up when he realized he wasn't able to stay on his feet without any support. Weak and worn out, he fell to the cold ground.

He watched Spy as he cleaned his hands with one of the paper towels that were still lying on the table from earlier that day. Humming to himself, the French put his pants back on and kneeled down next to the shivering Scout.

"I'm sorry, zis is cold for you, non? Here, let me 'ave my tie, you can keep ze ozer one as a souvenir." He kissed Scout's neck affectionately while he opened the knot of the fabric that still bound the boy.

Scout's shoulders hurt when he moved his arms, hurt terribly when he removed the gag from his mouth. His jaws and back felt stiff and he didn't dare to move, anticipating what he would feel if he did. What had just happened? He didn't understand. It hurt, more than last time, but... if it were bad, then why did he... did the pain really help to make him come, would he really learn to enjoy this, did he want to...? But... Spy wouldn't lie to him, would he... no, he wouldn't! He asked him to trust him, and Scout did. 'He promised it will get easier... he said he will be more gentle if I want him to...' he reminded himself, wishing his thoughts would stop rushing through his mind like this.

The man had stood up again and handed him a clean towel.

"Zere. I will go now. You look tired. Maybe you should sleep 'ere and recover from today's event. Unless... you want ze ozers to see your red eyes..." Satisfied with Scout's nod, he went for the door.

"Jean..."

Rolling his eyes when he heard the weak, pleading voice, he stopped.

"What is it, mon cher? Do you want to see ze Medic?" he answered, his faked worry convincing enough for the confused youth. He didn't have to see how he shook his head, of course Scout didn't want that. He grinned to himself. The kid certainly did not want to explain how he had just fucked the man he thought to be Spy, agreeing to everything, not knowing if he got off despite the pain... or because of it.

Too easy.

"No... do you... I mean..." Scout swallowed hard, unable to ask what he really wanted to know so badly. "Do ya... accept me as yar lover now...?" he finished his question, his gaze focused on his reddened wrists.

He grinned. So easy. "Lover?" he said aloud. "When did I say I want you for my lover after zis?" he asked in amazement.

"But..." Scout looked at him in horror, his eyes pleading, begging for some sign of affection, for the answer he wished to hear. "Ya said... this French word... pat... something..."

"Oh my, Scout! I am sorry! Zis language of yours... some words are so similar!" He turned around and looked at him gravely. "Zis is a misunderstanding. I 'ave to teach you some more zings before you can be my... lover. For now, putain will have to do." he explained sadly. "But don't worry, you proved to me 'ow fast and well you learn, you are on ze right path. You will love ze zings I show you in ze future even more zan today, I promise." he added and gave him an encouraging smile.

"But... what does it mean then?" He didn't want to hear it. He looked down his naked body. A blood-red letter, cut into his skin, just above the hip bone.

W

"Alors, whore, of course."

xxxxxxxxxxxx to be continued xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Well... ^^_

_Chapter 22 has unfortunately to be delayed, maybe by three or four days because my Beta and I don't have much time next week, I'm sorry._

_Translations:_

_Medic:_

_"Verdammt! Vorsicht!" = "Dammit! Be Careful!"_

_Pyro:_

_"'ont s'y..." Pyro commented. "'tis o'vious. 'at do 'e do no'?" = "Don't say"..."It's obvious. What do we do now?"_

_"'et's 'o!" Pyro lifted his flamethrower. "'m 'eddy." = "Let's go!" … "I'm ready."_

_Spy:_  
><em>"Mon dieu!" = "oh my god!"<em>

_quelle malheur = what a tragedy / how bad_

_Abominable = disgusting_

_Pyro:_

_"'ait, S'y." Pyro suddenly broke in. "I 'ave t' 'sk 'cout s'think, 'y 'nt 'ou go a'ead, 'e c'mes 'ater." = "Wait, Spay."... " I have to ask Scout something. Why don't you go ahead, he comes later."_

_"'nt do s'thing st'pid, 'cout!" he warned. "R'mber 'ow 'aken 'ou 'ere 'ast t'me?" = Don't do something stupid, Scout!"..."Remember how shaken you were last time?"_

_"I 'ink 'ou 'ouldn't..." = "I think you shouldn't..."_

_"'ell, 's 'ong 's 'ou r'mber t'ose 'ords... I 'ouldn't 'orry..." = "Well, as long as you remember those words... I shouldn't worry..."_

_Spy:_

_s'il te plaît. = please (informal singular, formal or plural: s'il vous plaît.)_

_"Ah, que tu es facile à anéantir; tu es même plus faible que les autres mauviettes!" = "Ah, you're so easy to destroy; you're even weaker than the other wimps..."_


	22. Chapter 22

Show must go on

The satisfied, smug smile just vanished from the Spy's face when he closed the door behind him and, as he walked into their common room, was replaced by a tired, calm expression. The smooth change didn't slip the Pyro's attention when he observed the Frenchman. Sure, he, too was relieved that their lost team member had returned, and moreover unharmed. Yet the small man had a bad feeling when he thought about the Scout. Something was going terribly wrong here, and that was not all. As much as he hated to admit it, especially after the incident with Soldier and Medic, he started to distrust their Spy. In the past he hadn't had much to do with the French and although Pyro knew the Spy loved having his flings he usually remained a professional when work was considered. Pyro didn't like the way Scout was treated by him at all, but that was one thing. The other one was: Why on earth would Spy react like that now?

He wasn't sure when it started, but Pyro was certain everyone had taken notice of the Scout's crush for the Frenchman, even if the boy had never talked about it, his face was readable like an open book. There had been the days spent in their base, all those weeks in Dustbowl. Why throwing Scout off track now of all times? Especially after the confrontation on their route through the snowy desert, as Pyro suddenly remembered. Wasn't it the Spy's harsh rejection that had caused the boy's fuses to blow and to run away in the first place?

Shifting uneasily on his place, Pyro passed a glance at the Medic, wishing he could discuss his worries with the German, but decided against it when he saw the man's face. Pale and worn out, but restless. The man needed some sleep, that was obvious, and Pyro doubted that talking about Spy's strange behaviour would help to relax the doctor's mind.

Pyro looked back at the French who was now talking with Soldier.

'Dammit.' he cursed silently, convinced Spy was charming their leader again as he had done before when he had lured the Scout away. Pyro was more than skeptical that the tall man only wanted to have a nice conversation.

Determined, he stood up and walked to the door, the fact that Scout was still absent worried him and he felt a bit cross nobody else seemed to care, knowing he was unfair. All of them had experienced some hard, even horrible hours before, no surprise everyone was occupied with his own thoughts. But still, even the Engineer...

"Pyro, where are you going, alone?" Soldier interrupted his talk with Spy, who now grinned openly at the masked man, unnoticed by the American.

"'ook at 'cout. 'e s'ill g'ne." He answered, annoyed by Spy's triumphant smile. Fortunately his mask made it easy to pretend ignorance.

"Just spoke with Spy about him. The boy is exhausted and needs some rest, Spy waited until he was sure Scout is alright and asleep. He should be left alone for a while and recover. And I agree with Spy." The American looked at the French, who nodded in agreement with a worried expression.

"'uckin' 'ake..."

"What was that, Pyro?" Soldier growled at the mumbled words.

"I 'aid 'or g'ds sake." he lied and turned around. "'edic, 'at do y'u 'ink?"

The German lifted his head from the book he was trying to read and blinked at them in confusion. He wasn't listening to their conversation, in fact, he hadn't even noticed the Spy's return.

"I... zhink zhe same, Pyro." he answered, hoping it would make sense and focused again on his book.

"See, monsieur Pyro, all we do is pour petit Scout's best." Spy said with sympathy in his voice. "Ze boy is lucky to have such good friends, n'est-ce pas?"

"'atever." Still his hand at the door handle he thought quickly. "'atever." he finally repeated slowly. "Spy, I'm s'prised you 're n't wo'ied o' the en'my, 'e 's still 'round. N'bo'y sh'ld 'e a'one, So'dier's 'rder, y'u re'embr? J'st g'nna ch'ck he 's s've." And before Spy or Soldier could object he had opened the door and left the room.

"What the... I can't tolerate such an insubordinate conduct!" Soldier gasped and was about to jump from his chair and follow their Pyro, but the Engineer shook his head.

"He's right, pardner, it was ya order, and that bloody son of a bitch's still on the loose. Cut the kid some slack, he ain't gonna terrorize the boy, right?"

Soldier looked at the Texan thoughtfully and finally sat down again.

"True. Guess I was more worried about the Scout's condition than the real threat for a second. I've got to hand it to you, Frenchie, you are sure keeping your head after all that has happened lately, even after being kidnapped."

"Please, Monsieur Soldier, je suis un pro after all." Spy answered, albeit absentmindedly, as he still glared at the closed door.

x x x x x

"'uck, 'hat 'id 'e do t' y'u?" Pyro exclaimed in shock when he entered what had become some kind of a sickbay lately. Just putting back on his shirt at this moment, Scout jumped around, startled.

His eyes were red and his short hair blowzy. But even before Pyro could see his face he knew the boy was in a bad state, the legs were shaky, no, his whole poise was shaken, missing all of its vividness. Untidy clothes... the whole situation spoke volumes, Pyro knew what had happened here.

The young man's smile sent a shiver down his spine.

"What ya mean, man? Everything's fine."

"F'ne? W'o a' y'u k'ding, Sc't? Y'u 'r o'ly a sh'dow of yo'rs'lf!" Indeed, the strange, blank look in the boy's eyes was almost scary, the usual sparkle had vanished.

"It's okay, Pyro." Scout repeated reassuringly and reached for his jacket that was still lying on the floor. He flinched when he moved too quickly, his whole body still hurting.

"'on't be an id't! N'thing's fi', 'his 'as t' stop, come..." he seized the Scout's left wrist and tried to drag him along, but the youth refused.

"No! Pyro...! Lemme go!"

"'ut... 'uck, 'hat 's that?" he stared at Scout's hand as it rubbed the clearly visible, reddish mark around his wrist. The same mark he had on the right.

"'id 'hat 'ssho'... No, Sc't, no! 'hat's s'ious, y'u 'ave t' tell..." Pyro implored, shaking his head in disbelieve.

"Shut up, ain't gonna tell anybody!" Scout snapped at him. "What's ya problem, maybe I like it rough, so will ya just shut up now?"

"'hat's b'llshit, e'ery'ne ca' see 'hat! If I e'er sa a r'pe 'ictim 'hen y'u..." but Scout interrupted him again.

"Told ya before and tell ya once more, I am not a rape victim, Pyro!" the boy almost shouted. "He didn't do anything I didn't agree to, got it? He asked me, whatever we did he kept asking me and I said yeah, it's fine. Why can't ya accept it? Why can't ya just leave me alone?" Some color returned to his face, but he was still looking too pale.

"'ood q'estion, 'aybe I 'hould 'ust do 'hat, 'diot, as y'u are so 'appy. 'ait, is 'hat b'ood?" He stared at the darkening spot on the shirt just above the waistline.

"Fuck. FUCK!" Scout turned around and hectically searched the table for something he could use to stop the bleeding. "Thought it finally had stopped..."

With a sigh, Pyro joined right beside him and checked one of the bags the Medic had left there earlier, took out a clean tissue and offered it to the boy.

"'ere."

"Thanks." He turned his back to the Pyro and pressed the soft fabric on his skin, flinching for a second. But the flesh was already numb so the sting was soon gone again, leaving a dull, throbbing pain.

"'et me 'ave a look 't it. Y'u 'ow I ass'st 'edic a lot." the smaller man offered.

"No..."

"'et's 'o t' 'edic 'hen..." but he had already expected that Scout would refuse that, too.

"'an't 'orce y'u I 'uess... 'ere, 'edical tape, t' kee' it i' p'ace."

Without a word Scout picked up the roll of tape Pyro had shoved over the table and fixated the tissue before he let his shirt drop over it again.

"So y'u 'ike b'ood p'ay, too." Pyro stated sarcastically. As he looked at the boy's hanging shoulders he wished to have a _word_ with their Spy. Yet he felt a bit at loss, what should he do? Soldier had to be informed, this had to stop. But how could he convince Scout? He gave a start when Scout suddenly started to speak again.

"I've wanted him for so long now, Pyro. And now I have him and I don't want to lose him." His voice was low but calm, and the smaller man knew he was serious.

"'es, and 'e 'ows 'hat and is 'oing wi' y'u 'hatever 'e 'ants. Is 'hat 'eally 'hat YOU 'ant?"

"It will be better next time, I'll get used to it."

"B'llshit."

"He said he's gonna be... less rough next time..."

"B'llshit."

"He promised..."

"Sc'ut, 'hat's b'llshit, too, a'd y'u 'ow it! 'isten to you'sel', y'u are t'lking 'ike a bea'n up 'ouse'ife!" he growled at the boy in disbelieve. "Ok'y, I'm 'ot gay or a'ythin', 'on't 'ow much 'bout 'hat, 'ut I 'now what he's d'ing 'as n'thing t' do 'ith lo'e at all!"

"Ya don't understand..."

"Did 'e t'll y'u 'e lo'es y'u?"

"Yeah... yes he did..." Scout answered slowly, knowing it was a lie. Everything was so complicated, he didn't know how he should explain it. He sensed the protective attitude of the Pyro and it felt good after what had happened before, but still... he was certain it was only a matter of time, the circumstances were stressful for all of them, even for Spy; once they got out of here, once he learned to meet the Spy's expectations Jean would tell him anyway. He knew it.

"A'd y'u 'elieve 'hat?"

"Pyro, stop it!" Why was he discussing this with him anyway?

"That's none of ya fuckin' business, I'm not a beaten up housewife and I'm not a little kid anymore, I wish ya all would finally stop treating me like one!"

Suddenly, he felt anger rising inside of him, against his stupid team mates who seemed to think they knew everything, against Pyro who wouldn't stop with that shit. And against himself because he was still listening to him. And because he felt he was changing, a part of him was slipping away, like a part of his own spirit was simply about to vanish. No wonder everyone thought him to be a weak girl, no surprise Spy still didn't think of him as an equal lover.

"I know what I'm doin', deal with it. But I warn ya!" Abruptly, he turned around and glared at the smaller man.

"One word about this and ya gonna regret it, man, mind ya own business, got it?"

Of course, Pyro's face was unreadable through his mask, but Scout could tell he glared back at him.

"S're." Pyro finally answered. "I 'ill sh't up fo' 'ow. 'ut I 'arn y'u, too! We 'ave othe' pr'blems 'han your s'ck re'ationship, 'hen I see S'y mess'n 'ith you o'ce mo'e be'ore we are o't of 'ere, _he _'ill reg'et it. 'ocus on gettin' 'etter and 'elpin' us to e'cape 'his 'ucking p'ace, _got it?_"

Scout nodded. Sounded sensible and now as he thought about it, he still felt weak and exhausted from the previous events. The chill from his imprisonment in the water tank still hadn't left his bones. Probably not the worst idea to catch some sleep now.

"Hope ya don't mind when I don't join ya and sleep here." Without looking at Pyro again, he put his jacket on and changed the armchair into the lounger. He picked up the blanket the Sniper had used hours before and lay down, his back to the other man.

Pyro watched him for a moment, trying to decide what was the best thing to do now. It probably was for the best to leave Scout alone for a while, but it was still dangerous to be alone. On the other hand, Scout had just been attacked, so their enemy would probably choose someone else. Was the man that predictable?

"So'dier 'aid we shou'dn' 'e a'one as lon' as 'hat 'astard is still 'round som'here. Gettin' my st'ff and stay 'ere, d'n't e'en t'y to a'gue." he hissed before Scout could answer.

"D'n't 'orry, I 'on't ta'k to you a'ymo'e, y'u sleep. 'ut," he paused when he had reached the door.

"'ut Sc'ut, one 'ast thing. 'id you rea'y 'all in lo'e with th's kin' of man? 'as 'hat rea'y 'ow you 'ished it to be? 'hink 'bout it!"

x x x x x

Pyro could tell that the boy had been holding his breath until he was finally alone. He wasn't convinced it was right to keep silent about Spy's behaviour, this matter shouldn't be taken lightly and he didn't want to be responsible if something worse happened to Scout. Maybe he should bother Medic after all and talk to him about this sickening story. That lovestruck idiot looked so broken, it was scary.

Before he could make up his mind he heard Soldier and Spy arguing through the closed door. Quickly he walked in to see what that noise was about this time.

"I cannot believe you 'ide zis from us, Monsieur Soldier! Zis is all too dangerous, and you know who is le traitor!" Spy approached the fuming American, waving a little black book in front of the man's face.

"Bloody hell, what are ye talkin' 'bout, Spy?" Demo interfered before Soldier could jump at the French and knock him down. "Who are ye callin' a traitor?"

"Shut the fuck up, Frenchie, you don't know anything! How did you get your slimy fingers on this anyway?" Soldier tried to snatch the book from him, but Spy simply took a step to the side and evaded the attack.

"Mois, je le... I found zis on ze floor next to Monsieur Soldier's bed. Zis is outrageous! All ze attacks! Le petit Scout, almost drowned! Ze poor Medic, almost strangled to death! Moi, mes cigarettes exploding! And kidnapped! Mon dieu! Le poor Sniper, almost killed by ze evil 'untsman! Ze enemy, always a step ahead, and you 'ave it in cold print who is wiz ze villain all ze time!" Spy was apparently beside himself, it was unusual for them to see him lose his countenance like this. Whatever information this strange book brought with it, it seemed to be shocking if a man like the Spy would get all worked up.

"Wrong you are, Spy." Heavy's calm voice growled through the room. "Trust everyone we must. A misconception this is, whatever leetle book says."

"Yeah, me thinks the same." Demo agreed, first looking at Heavy, then at the Pyro. But the masked man didn't pay any attention to him, his hidden eyes focused on Spy. What was this guy up to now?

"Ye are out of ye mind, Spy."

"Demo, mon ami, if you knew what I..." Spy began, but the Engineer had walked up to him and snatched the book from the surprised man. "Hey, what the...!"

"Calm down, pardner, been curious 'bout this darn little thing for a while. Lemme see..." he browsed through the pages. As he had said before to Soldier, it was one of his older notebooks, and he recognized his own handwriting and old sketches and calculations at once. Then he stopped, his eyes widening.

"Well, accordin' to this ahm a traitor passin' information to the enemy." He ignored the others as they gasped and started to mumble and continued. "One info's that ol' doc here's a Nazi to the core..."

"Bloody bullshit! Shove it up yer arse, Spy, lil' hardhat a traitor. Doc's a Nazi. Yeah. Right. Ain't gonna believe this shit!" Demo growled at the French who shook his head.

"Mais Monsieur Demoman, I do not wish to believe, too, zat's ze truz. But you 'ave to admit, it is strange zat ze enemy always knows our plans. It is likely we 'ave a traitor, someone who is very clever, non? And ze Medic... I does not care but 'e is from zat country, and we do not know, so maybe..."

"Don't." Medic put a hand on the Sniper's shoulder. The Australian had remained silent during the course of the discussion, but now he was about to leap from his bed. He looked up at the German's pale, but calm face.

"I know vhat you vant to say. But it is alright." he whispered. "Zhis vould only make zhings vorse. Zhey have to calm down somehow."

"But..."

"I know zhe truzh and you do. Zhat's enough. Leave zhe rest to me. Gut." He smiled both grimly and approvingly when the man sat down again, patted the Sniper's shoulder and joined the arguing little group, planting himself in front of the Soldier, his expression concerned but proud and decisive.

"Herr Soldier, zhis vill lead to nozhing, as you see, zhe group breaks apart, zhis is not good. You are zhe leader, it is your duty to put your foot down and clear zhis ugly situation once and for all. Ve have discussed zhe matter about me before. As for zhe Engineer, I trust him. Vhat about you? Do you trust our Engineer?"

"Of course we do." Demoman snorted. "He got injured as well, me was there when it happened!"

"Good zing you were." Spy retorted. "What a lucky, 'ow do you say, coincidence. 'is injury was 'ardly dangerous. Maybe a plan to divert suspicion from 'imself..."

The Engineer looked at him in bewilderment, then he couldn't help laughing.

Soldier was pale, first glaring at the Spy, then the Texan, his other teammates. For a second he watched the Medic's serious face, then again the Engineer. Finally, he straightened his back.

"SHUT UP! ALL OF YOU!" he barked, and the others sighed with relief. This was the tone they were used to. When like this, the Soldier was back to his old self.

"You!" He pointed at the German. "I don't know what you were before and I don't give a shit. Now you are the Medic, and you better do your job thoroughly. No more bullshit about puppy-Snipers and broken ribs, or you will have to answer me, understood?"

The Medic rolled his eyes, he would have preferred another speech directed at him, but it could have been worse.

"Ja, Sir, understood." He returned to his chair and hit the back of the Sniper's head with his hand. "Stop zhat stupid grin, idiot."

"Now about this." The American took the book from the Engineer's hands. "You still needing it? Good." When the Texan shook his head, Soldier tore the treacherous pages from it and ripped them to pieces. "Fact is, we don't know the truth. Maybe the book is right and Engineer's injury was a trick to fool us. But..." he answered the Engineer's suspicious glare with a grin. "For all we know everyone could have done it. We are all crazy idiots, right? Maybe Heavy is the traitor. Or the Demoman. Or Pyro or Scout or me. Hell, even you, Spy could have manipulated your own stuff. And maybe..." He let the small, shredded pieces of paper fall to the floor. "And maybe this stupid book was used to fool all of us, to make us believe old Engie here's the rat. So we can suspect each other or simply agree to continue trusting each other. And as your leader I expect you to follow my orders and trust each other at once!" His face was so serious when he spoke that Engineer almost started to laugh out loud again. Watching the faces of the others didn't make it easier to suppress the laughter, he could see they thought the same.

Only Demoman hadn't any qualms and grinned widely.

"Ye know, Private, would have done that without yer orders anyway."

The others joined the laughter, even Pyro chuckled from under his mask. He couldn't help passing a hidden glare with glee at Spy, happy that the man's accusations hadn't led to anything.

Although, when he thought about it, this was not a laughing matter. Not at all. Pyro couldn't decide if this little scene spoke for the French, as he seemed so worried about the team's safety. Or was it as suspicious as the way he abused the Scout.

With a pang of guilt he realized he had forgotten about the boy for a moment, distracted by this strange incident. He looked at Medic, but the German was once more busy bantering with the Sniper, so he decided to let the matter rest for now. He grabbed his blanket, flamethrower and a book and returned to Scout. Somehow, he never doubted to find the boy save and asleep.

x x x x x x

"Ya still drinkin' that stuff, John? The brew's gonna kill ya." The Engineer controlled the sensory device on the sentry. They had placed the machine outside this time, close to the open corridor where the compartments had been separated.

"This, Dell, is real coffee like real men drink it." Grumbling, Soldier emptied his cup.

"Rubbish. It's strong 'nuff to remove the rust from this little baby here." Satisfied with his work, he stood up and smiled at the sentry. "Now, would ya look at this little lady, that bastard better start prayin' as long as she's on guard."

"You stop nagging about my coffee, and I won't say anything about your habit of treating a pile of junk like your high school crush."

"Don't insult mah buildings, rocket-boy, she might save ya ass ya know. Don't listen to him, honey." With a provoking grin he patted the metallic construction. "This insensitive old Yankee's just jealous."

"Shall I give the two of you some private time or do you think we can patrol this area anytime soon?"

The Engineer laughed and put his tools away. He knew he tended to get a bit obsessed with his machines sometimes and he was glad that the Soldier dealt with his spleen like that. As long as the veteran was relaxed like this Engineer didn't mind being mocked a bit.

"Gonna go somewhere where she can't watch?" he grinned.

"Engineer, we are on duty." The American grinned back, knocking against the shorter man's hardhat.

"Yeah, ah know, just kiddin'. Anyway..." He hesitated, wondering if he should bring that topic up, now, that the Soldier seemed to be back to his senses. "John, where did ya find this book? Ah swear to ya, ah hadn't used those for a while, this one had sketches of stuff I thought about over a year ago. Kept it with mah other stuff, but hadn't looked at it for weeks."

Soldier didn't answer immediately. Although he had talked about trusting each other earlier, a little – irrational, as he told himself – voice of doubt still remained in a dark corner of his head. He didn't want to believe what he had read, and he couldn't, but yet he couldn't dismiss the whole idea from his thought, as much as he tried.

"Shortly after Sniper had returned I controlled the area around here, you remember?" he finally answered and continued when the Engineer nodded. "It lay in the dirt, opened, I knew I saw you with those before and wanted to return it to you, but then... damn, Dell, it's your handwriting..."

"Pah!" Engineer snorted, kicking a stone away as they walked on. "Yeah, it is a lot like mah handwriting! That son of a bitch's clever. He knew our strong points. And the weak..."

"And you think he knows you are my weak point or what are you trying to say? Sounds a bit far fetched to me."

"First, ahm your strong point, and second... John, ya know what ahm talkin' 'bout... Just because ah lived a different life it didn't mean ah didn't care 'bout what ya were doin'. Ah read about you. The articles about you and your success in the army, and how it ended..." he explained, careful to avoid more specific words.

"No idea what you mean. Anyway," the Soldier cut off his friend's sentence. "Of course you are loyal to the team, and Medic as well. We worked together long enough now and there have been more convenient opportunities in the past to sell out the team. No." he finally concluded, convincing himself and the Engineer. "I think... I know it was a trick by this asshole. I... don't understand how I could fall for this... Really, I'm impressed how YOU can stay that calm. Instead of pummeling my head with that wrench of yours."

"Well... gotta admit the thought had crossed mah mind." Engineer shrugged. "More than once. But ah know ya well 'nuff, it wouldn't have helped a bit. Obviously the shit ya drinking's good for ya brain. We should get ya another cup." He grinned and avoided a friendly punch.

x x x x x x

"Eh, Chubby, ye alright?" Demo slapped his friend on the back. The team, minus Scout and Pyro, had discussed their next steps for the last hour and decided it was, again, about time to proceed and to see what lay before them. After all, they had been left behind which meant limited supplies and nobody felt at ease with the thought of being an open target to anyone who might have a reason to attack. And although they had half a tank full of water, nobody liked the idea of using it if not really necessary, after the corpse of Smith had taken a swim in there.

The traveling device the Engineer had constructed in Dustbowl had been left behind, but they had the Jeep that Demo, Heavy and Pyro had acquired when they freed the Spy.

Speaking of him, the French had calmed down again, and apologized to both Medic and Engineer. Discovering this strange book so shortly after his kidnapping and the assault against Scout had clouded his brain, he explained, he was apparently sorry that he had been out of his mind, distrusting his team members.

For now, it had been decided, they should gather their belongings and be ready for the departure the next morning before they went to sleep, so they wouldn't lose more time. The only exceptions were Pyro and Scout, but it wouldn't take long to prepare their equipment tomorrow as the others were already done when Soldier and Engineer were about to take the first turn of being on guard.

The Scotsman had seen the Heavy's worried face and wondered. His friend had his calm, melancholic moments sometimes, but he was usually in high spirits right before a new assignment.

"Dammit, lad, how did ye get this dirt in ye bed? Ye went to sleep with ye boots last night?"

"Nyet. Do not know. To sleep time it is, Demo. Being strong tomorrow, find and kill tiny coward we will, da?" Quickly, he brushed the pile of dry earth from his bed, hiding a pale pink ribbon from his friend's eye.

x x x x x x

_Wow, finally! Chapter 22 is there, thank you all for your patience :*  
>Feels good to be back with the good ol' team, although I needed a little while to get used to direct so many characters again (not to mention the accents...) but it was fun, a bit like coming home *g* Enough with that rambling!<em>

_So much Pyro -_- Writing his lines can be annoying. I decided to write his direct speech in normal English and deleted some letters afterwards, not consequently following a pattern._

_I do think it's not hard to understand him, I tried to make it a bit easier so you won't have to bother with scrolling for a translation all the time, that's why don't write one right now._

_Please, if you do not understand his words, just tell me and I'll add the English version here ^^_

_Oh, btw., one reason why I had to neglect Snowbowl was a Christmas request I wrote for my wonderful beta, an AU based on the flashback from Chapter 15. It's not really TF2-related anymore, so I probably won't upload it here. But as she insisted on me having it published I uploaded it on Deviantart, you can find Chapter 1 in my gallery, I'm redheadsadako there. So, in case you want to read that, too, just check there (updates every Wednesday, 7 chapters total, drama, slash indeed)_


	23. Chapter 23

**So close**

_His footsteps were too light for his weight as he crossed the lawn; the soft layer of grass, wet by the drizzling rain, didn't yield under his steps; and although it was a cold day, although he was panting heavily, he neither felt a chill on his skin nor his lungs burning. The little house, its silhouette blurry through rain and distance, still seemed too far out of reach, and he ran, and he didn't come closer. A light flickered behind a window, shadows moved, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't leave the spot and the outlines of his home disappeared in the darkness, leaving only the little, yellow square of the lightened window for his eyes to see. The earth under his feet slightly vibrated, a tingling sensation beneath the soles of his boots. A soft voice crying. He shook his head, blinked and the world around him dissolved in a whirl of darkness and bright, twinkling spots, the sound of rain grew louder and louder until the storm in his head drowned every other sound around him and he still ran on the same spot and couldn't stop when the next thing he heard was a fired bullet. And another. And the shrill scream of a woman. _

_The next moment he was back in his home, his wife's laughter greeted him as she turned around and smiled, her face pretty and youthful as it always had been. A happy, merry woman whose smile slowly disappeared when blood ran down the straight back of her nose, loving eyes becoming hard and reproachful, blaming him for all that happened, for not listening to her. Blaming him for being stubborn, sacrificing her and the child to ideas of honor and justice and then they grew cold and empty and she laughed and laughed, crazy with despair and hate and he could see the blood on the wall behind her, through her vanishing body. She still laughed when he looked down, a puddle of blood staining the once white carpet, the corpse of his wife facedown on the floor, already dead and alone when he had entered through the open front door. _

_He had no time, he knew she was dead, they never left a job unfinished and he ran upstairs, yelling the name of the child, doubting he would hear an answer but still hoping, losing time, another open door, but no more corpses. The howling sound of a car engine echoed through the night, penetrating the slowly disappearing walls and he ran again._

_Small hands desperately beating against the wood. Darkness all around, the earth trembled under his feet. Throbbing through his body like a second heart beating, the soft voice crying for his help. The tremor underneath his feet called for him, called for his attention when his foot suddenly sank deeper when he stepped on a patch not unlike freshly dug up dirt, but he failed to notice. Once more he crossed the lawn, deafened by the sound of scratches and faint smashes against a wooden lid and the heart grew weaker, the sound grew lower and finally stopped when he reached his car, turned the key and followed the murderers through the darkness. Only to return hours later with the blood of three men on his hands, but without his child and the next night his wife came to him when her body was already gone and she begged for her child and all he could do was waking up in an empty house. He got out of his bed but the house disappeared again, leaving him to a seemingly endless fall, the dark red stain on the once white carpet glared at him like a sore eye and was gone before he hit the ground, all was gone, the carpet, the house and he kneeled on the wet, green grass, the pounding sound growing louder and louder. He knew he came closer to the answer, digging with his hands in the soft ground, a patch of removed sod and earth until he found a wooden box and there was silence. Inside a small, child-sized doll with pink ribbons in its brown hair, its wax-white face lifeless and staring, the body stiff like any other doll but this was his. And while he still screamed through the night his wife thanked him for returning her child to her._

Heavy abruptly opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling above him. He took a deep breath and collected his thoughts, a routine after the many times he had dreamed this particular dream and although it didn't come to him every night anymore he knew there would never be a time it stopped entirely. But even if he had gotten used to the nightmare, it always brought the same old feelings of grieve and regret and he still wondered how he ever managed to live on and pick up his daily life. Another thing came to his mind. Of course, like most of the others, he had never spoken about his losses and the circumstances, yet somebody knew and obviously planned to use this knowledge against him. The Russian frowned, aware of his own temper and the danger he could be if he lost control of himself. What should he do, how could he stop the madness before it began?

"Aye, are ye awake, laddie?" a low but cheerful voice growled next to him. Heavy turned his head and saw Demoman, lively and awake, fresh like a daisy. At this thought, the Russian chuckled. The first weeks of alcohol withdrawal had been hard, not only for the Demoman, but for all of them, the man had been a mess up to the point of being unbearable, but they had no choice, and in the end, it was the best that could happen.

"What's funny, eh?" The man raised an eyebrow.

"Nothing." Heavy grinned weakly. "What is matter?"

Demoman shrugged. It was nothing new to him that people laughed about him. In his past as a constant drunk he had often been the target of laughter, it didn't affect him much anymore. At least, after being involuntary dried out, he wasn't confronted with pity anymore, that had been worse.

"Engineer and Soldier are back, it's our turn, ye comin', or ye needin' a prince to kiss ye?"

"Nyet, thank you, your beard it tickles I think." Both men laughed when suddenly Soldier appeared behind the Demoman.

"GET YA ASSES OUT OF HERE NOW BEFORE YOU WAKE EVERYONE UP!" he barked in his usual manner and laughing even more, Heavy and the Scotsman rushed out of the room.

"Good." growled the American, satisfied with himself. "Inconsiderate maggots."

"Nice goin', mate." the lazy voice of the Sniper called through the room. "Thanks to ya help everyone's 'wake now alright."

"WHAT IS THIS HERE, A GIRLS' DORMITORY? BACK TO SLEEP AT ONCE, MAGGOT, THAT'S AN ORDER!" Soldier flared up at the Australian, earning himself an impatient glare from Spy and a chuckle from the Engineer.

"Well, when it's an order I better obey." Sniper grinned and put his hat over his eyes again. His body was still hurting and half of his face was still numb but he could feel a headache coming. The sooner he recovered the sooner he could be useful for the team again.

"What's with ya, pardner?" Engineer asked the Medic. "Ah can't remember when ya were sleepin' for the last time. Ya plan to read all them books here?" But the German shook his head, not even lifting his eyes from the page he was reading.

"Zhank you, but don't vorry. It is our time to take over zhe vatch after Demoman and Heavy, I vill sleep after zhat." Neither he nor Engineer were convinced, the man still seemed high-strung and the Texan wondered when the Medic would simply pass out. He considered for a second to suggest taking a sleeping drug, but he remembered that, as most doctors, this one was one of the worst patients ever.

x x x x x

"What situation is, Demo? To go quickly we had, what others do?" Heavy inquired, yawning, when they passed the Sentry. The air was fresh, even a bit chilly, but compared to the snowy areas they had left behind a few days ago the weather was very agreeable. Although he never minded the cold in Dustbowl much - after all, in his home country that would have been normal weather - he thought it was nice to wander around freely. Thick, warm winter clothes always hindered him in his movement. He was slow enough anyway, and a few layers of clothes plus a winter coat didn't help at all. Right now, the temperature would have been perfect for him, too bad that they didn't fight at night.

"Sniper's been sleepin', so's Spy, Pyro's with Scout, Medic's still 'wake, readin' like he's plannin' to learn all them books here by heart. Guess me don't have to tell ye 'bout Soldier, 'n as usually Engineer's with him." Demo summed them up as they patrolled the area around their compartment up to the water tank and back, basically following the trails in the sand made by the two Americans before.

"Anyway, ye arright, laddie?" Demoman suddenly asked.

"Meaning what you do?"

"Ye know, ye've been sleepin' like a rock, not moving a bone, but ye been pale, lookin' like a big, fat corpse in a coffin, guess ye were not dreamin' 'bout breakfast this time."

Heavy snorted. "Having rude tiny Demoman for breakfast I will." he growled. Nothing more but the usual banter. Then he thought about the Demoman's question again. On a first impulse he just wanted to refuse any answer. But maybe...

"Soldier behave strange, agree you do not, Demo? What is reason you think?"

"Aye... ye know, thought 'bout that, too. Guess somebody's messin' with the lad's brain. Didn't understand at first, until that bloody book appeared t'day. Still, suspectin' ol' Engie... nay." He shook his head. "Kinda strange, them hadn't spoken much with each other for years, but since Dustbowl they are inseparable. And suddenly this." He pointed at his head, hinting at the madness that had been going on lately. "Me's guessin' somebody messed with his head. But as he didn't talk 'bout it we don't know, right?"

Heavy nodded, a decision forming in his head. Maybe there lay the key, their enemy obviously knew a lot about them and now it was his turn. Obviously the stranger didn't dare to face the Russian directly, so he chose another way, similar to whatever he had planned for Soldier. After Soldier so suddenly had attacked their Medic there was the danger of the team splitting up, either by siding with Medic or with Soldier. Actually, what had happened to the Scout... although it was horrible, the incident had distracted them from the tensed situation and maybe even saved it. Still, the main problem was that nobody really knew what was going on at all. With that conclusion, his mind came up with the final details for his plan.

"Demoman..." he started slowly. "Think an idea I have... think Pyro we can call?" The Scotsman looked at him curiously.

"Well, me thinks he doesn't want to leave the kid alone, and he's probably right. Why?"

"Tell him later we can." Heavy decided and looked around, making sure they were alone, before he lowered his massive head and spoke in a low voice.

"Listen to me. To talk we have, think about something I did..."

"Ye did arright, almost could hear ye brain explodin', lad. What's this all 'bout?"

"You will see." the Russian answered grimly, removed the pendant from his neck and took the pink ribbon he had found earlier out of his pocket.

x x x x x

As he had expected, reading would distract his mind, but also kept it busy, so he could easily ignore the feeling of weariness. Of course he knew his behavior wasn't very reasonable, but right now, whenever he would close his eyes, too many thoughts ran through his head, memories, old and recent, he didn't want to deal with now. Or anytime soon. Besides, there was enough to do, with the injured Sniper and the almost drowned Scout. Not much later and the boy would have been nothing more than a soggy, cold corpse, like Smith. Maybe this could have been prevented from happening if they had paid more attention instead of fighting. He had begun to understand what had come over Soldier, obviously someone had tried to manipulate the man's mind, planting seeds of doubt in his brain so he would suspect his own teammates, even attack them.

Medic had realized the moment he recognized the drug in his bloodstream that their enemy knew perfectly well who he was dealing with, and how to use this knowledge. A very dangerous fact they had been aware of, but probably taken too lightly.

Yet, whenever they hadn't been alone, they had been able to prevent life-threatening dangers. Scout hopefully would have learned his lesson now and not run off alone any time soon again. As for the Sniper... he looked at the sleeping man. The slightly swollen cheek was hidden from his view by the hat, and the freshly sewed wounds were hidden under his clothes, but he saw the man's muscles twitching as they still had to recover from the injuries and excessive overuse. This was likely to stop soon, but he was sure that the Australian would suffer from sore muscles and stiff bones for a while. His eyes rested on the long legs, fascinated that Sniper hadn't been able to feel all the small bullets in his flesh after he injected the drug. He wondered if he should check the bandages once it was their turn to take over guard duty. But that would mean disturbing Scout in his rest, and leave them rather unprotected if he planned to do that in the open.

Why had it been decided that he had to be on guard with Sniper anyway? The thought of being alone with him made him feel uneasy. In this state the man wasn't an actual threat, in case the Australian would annoy him Medic would be able to fight him off without any effort, but still. Some of the issues he didn't want to think about involved the Sniper and he suspected it would be difficult to avoid all of them.

His head felt heavy and he would probably have to deal with a headache soon, but he concentrated on his book again anyway. Teaming him and an injured Sniper up for guard-duty, what a ridiculous idea, how effective could they be? He thought about asking someone else, Sniper's physical state was a good excuse, but who? Soldier was out of question, he would probably bite his head off. He and Engineer needed some more sleep anyway. Neither Demoman nor Heavy would refuse a double shift even if their limbs were falling off or their eyes were bleeding, but he didn't want to ask them, after all, it was likely that they were looking forward to some more hours of rest. Scout was out of question. Pyro would have been a very agreeable company, but somebody had to look after Scout. If the Sniper would take Pyro's place the two injured men would be defenseless as well.

Spy, maybe? He passed a glance at the sleeping Frenchman. Rather not. Spy had had a hard day, too, and although he wasn't hurt and had appeared to be pretty well after all... Compared to the others, he seemed to be the most reasonable choice and they used to get along quite well in the past, yet he somehow couldn't make up his mind to ask him. There was something about the man... No, it was useless, he couldn't put his finger on it. Maybe it was the fact he felt guilty because he hadn't taken care of the man's health after his return, satisfied that he was alive and obviously in one piece with only a few bruises in his face.

It didn't matter. He would have to deal with the Sniper sooner or later, so why not getting over and be done with it?

Still deep in his thoughts Medic gave a start when he suddenly was addressed by the Demoman.

"Aye, lad, it's just meself and ol' Heavy, ye lookin' like ye've seen the devil." The Scotsman grinned. "He, maybe ye have. Ye feelin' well enough for ye turn?"

The German smiled inwardly. He knew how to interpret the smug grins of Heavy and Demo, often it meant they had just defeated an army of attackers, but as that was rather unlikely they obviously had been scheming all the time. As long as their plans didn't involve blowing them all up, he didn't mind.

"Doctor looks tired. Another shift take we can. If doctor want." Heavy sorrowfully suggested. The Medic's pale face and sunken eyes worried him, but of course, as he had expected, his offer was declined.

"Zhank you, Heavy, I vas staying avake so I can sleep better later." He hesitated. "I zhink I vill ask zhe Spy after all..."

"Don't ya even think 'bout it, ya mongrel." a voice grumbled from under the Sniper's hat. "I'm awake 'n ready, don't ya think I'm skippin' guard duty and have my head bitten of by the American bulldog over there."

Demoman chuckled.

"Ye mean the bulldog that's snorin' like an army of chainsaws?"

"Yeah. And as all good bulldogs he sniffs it when there's a reason to bark even if he were 20 miles away. Ugh." Sniper flinched when he stood up. Each muscle was hurting, his cheek felt swollen and hot and he wasn't sure if whatever thread Medic used would be strong enough to keep his wounds closed as his flesh seemed to try opening them again.

"See?" He grinned when Soldier mumbled something in his sleep. "Better get outta here right now, ya comin'?"

Medic put his book aside.

"Jaja."

x x x x x

Once outside, Medic shivered from the cold, wondering how he could ever have survived the snowstorms in Dustbowl and on their trip through the snowy desert. But after all, he was tired, so it wasn't a surprise that his body temperature took a bit longer to adjust. On the bright side the chilly wind made it easier to stay awake and it even cleared his head a little.

Next to him, the Sniper apparently didn't mind the weather as much as the fact that he was moving. He tried to stretch his arms and legs to get rid of the stiffness in his body, but his muscles refused to obey, aching with every step, as Medic had expected them to do.

"Oh, does it hurt, poor Sniper?" he mocked him gleefully. "Maybe you vant to go back to your bed and recover like a good boy." His teasing earned him a sullen, frustrated glare.

"Not funny, Will. How 'bout a massage, eh? I think ya hands could loosen those bloody muscles up a bit." he suggested, biting his lips when he stumbled over a rock and almost lost his balance.

"Forget it, Sniper, you mistake me for your personal nurse, zhis is not going to happen."

"How 'bout loosin' up yaself then, ya know, without them other blokes 'round ya might as well call me by my name." the Australian suggested, his eyes focused on the shadows cast by the water tank, for a second wondering if one of them moved or if his tripping and scuffling over the uneven ground were the reasons why he seemed to see movements everywhere.

"I don't vant to, and I vouldn't have done so lately if you idiot veren't annoying me all zhe time."

"So ya only use my name when ya angry with me? And you're callin' me the idiot. Suit yourself." the Sniper growled and sat down on a boulder close to the massive water tank.

Medic was about to make another snappish remark, but decided against it. He looked up at the cloudless sky, dark blue, almost black. In the city it was impossible to see so many stars shining with their cold light like this. Beautiful but eerie. But neither beauty nor eeriness helped very much against the wind. He pulled his coat tighter around him and crossed his arms, now observing the area around their compartment, as far as he could overlook it from their position. If someone would try to sneak in from the other side the Sentry would attack. As long as it would happen through the front entry. They should probably continue their round.

"Why did ya kiss me?"

Startled by the sudden question and irritated by the casual sound he turned around to the Sniper.

"Vhat is zhis nonsense, Nicholas, I told you it vas a dream."

The Australian grinned.

"He, would be nice if ya call me that when ya not angry, but after all, it's pretty easy to annoy ya, right?" His self-satisfied expression irritated the Medic even more, although not as much as the fact that he had been tricked so easily.

"Idiot." He grumbled, burying his hands in his pockets.

"Ya cold? Wanna have my jacket?"

"Vho do you zhink I am, a girl in distress? Treat me like zhat and you vill be zhe one in distress."

"Come on, ya makin' it not easy to be nice to ya." Sniper complained, massaging his healthy leg as good as he could. The muscles felt hard under his grip and he still wondered how he managed to overstrain his own body that much.

"I just vant you to leave me alone."

"And I want to know if it really was a dream." he retorted. "Felt pretty real, ya know."

"Nicholas, zhat night you didn't feel zhe bullets in your body, you didn't feel how I removed zhem and you didn't even remember you vere shot in zhe shoulder. But I can assure you zhose vounds are very real. I doubt you are able to rely to vhat you _think _vhat vas real and vhat vas not." In his mind, he cursed the Sniper as a stubborn bastard. Bad enough that _he _remembered the truth, and how surprised he was that he hadn't noticed how warm the man's lips felt back in Dustbowl. Cursing this memory as well he walked a few steps towards the remains of the train, checking the surface.

"It is not zhat difficult to climb on zhat thing from zhe side."

"Ya probably right." the Sniper sighed, ignoring the last sentence. "Just a dream then. Hey, ya think you could..." but the German interrupted him at once, guessing what was about to come.

"I think ve should continue making sure zhat nobody tries to sneak in and zherefore change zhe topic and go on. Come, slow exercise is good for your body." he cheered him on, gesturing him to get up and follow him. With a smile, the Sniper stood up, stretching his aching back. He felt more like an 80 years old man right now.

For a few minutes, they walked in silence. It was still rather dark, but at the far away horizon the first change of colors in the sky could be seen, dawn wasn't there yet, but coming closer. Their shift would end soon. Sniper glanced at the Medic's face. The German's gaze was unfocused while he was staring at the sky again, lost in thoughts, still feeling tired but also restless. Sniper tried to remember the details of the man's face when he was younger. Compared to then, the features had become sharper, almost hard, the grim, angry expression around his mouth was still the same, otherwise, he seemed to be emotionless if it weren't for his eyes with their mixture of worry, melancholy and anger. And maybe a bit of confusion, as the Australian added in his mind.

"Vhat?" Medic snapped when he realized he was being observed.

"Ever fucked with a man?" Sniper grinned. He had been about to say 'nothing' instead, but after all... He almost laughed out loud when he saw the bewilderment in the man's face.

"Are you... completely crazy?"

"Nah, just curious. Have ya?" he asked again, most innocently.

"Give me one good reason vhy I shouldn't kill you!"

"Ya just patched me up!" Sniper protested laughingly, avoiding a blow against his arm by stepping aside just in time.

"And zhat obviously vas a mistake on my behalf." With a growl, Medic increased his walking speed and went ahead, but Sniper caught up with him after a few steps and allowed both of them a few more minutes of silence. After a moment or two the color of the Medic's face changed from crimson back to normal.

"With a woman?"

"Vhat are you, an idiot? I'm in my thirties..."

"Almost forty." Sniper corrected, this time too slow to avoid the blow against his side.

"And, in case you have forgotten, I'm a married man..."

"With a woman you never liked." Sniper interjected again, amused by the disbelieving look on the German's face.

"So vhat, of course I have... vhy am I talking vizh you about zhis anyway?"

"YOU wanted to change the topic, remember? Because ya didn't want to kiss me." With a solemn expression, Sniper nodded, careful and attentive in case he was punched again. For a man who wasn't actually a combat fighter the Medic could hit surprisingly hard.

"You... talking vizh you is even vorse zhan kissing..." he began and realized what he just said when he saw the triumphant look in the Sniper's eyes.

"You tricked me!" he protested.

"Yeah." He grinned even wider.

"You vere talking about all zhis nonsense so I vould say... you really planned zhat, you stupid, horny bastard!" He bit on his tongue, took a deep breath and suddenly, he chuckled, and when he saw the Australian's puzzled expression he couldn't help it, he had to laugh and couldn't stop.

"You are unbelievable, Nicholas, really." He gasped and leaned against the wall of the compartment, holding his side. He couldn't remember the last time he had laughed like that. This was so stupid, he really should be angry. But the situation was so absurd, it was hilarious.

Sniper just stood there and watched him with a smile until the Medic had regained some of his composure. Then he walked up to him, close enough to almost touch him with his forehead. Gently, his hand stroke the man's cheek.

"Can I?" he asked, his voice low, but he had already noticed how the German tensed up again. Yet the Medic didn't attack, he only took the Sniper's hand and slowly shoved it away from his face.

"No, Nicholas. Please, can't you just stop zhat?" He wasn't aggressive or angry, and that irritated the Sniper more than the German's usual reaction to his advances. With a sigh, he rested his head against the man's shoulder.

"Ya not makin' it easy for me, ya know that?"

Medic could still smell the dust from the desert from the man's hair, mixed with the smell of stale cigarettes, blood and the iodine he had used to clean Sniper's wounds. All this couldn't cover up the scent of the man's warm skin. For a moment, he kept silence, but finally he released the Sniper's hand and gently pushed him back.

"I'm sorry, Nicholas. Can't it just be like, vell, before you left Germany back then?" he finally asked, avoiding to look at his face.

"Ya mean, friends?" Sniper suggested.

"Hm. Yes. I zhink. Nozhing more."

"Sure." Although he wasn't sure if this was a good idea. On the other hand, it was an improvement, considering the way the Medic had treated him since they had met again on his first day as a member of the team. And the German apparently relaxed, even smiled, reminding him of the young man he had once met so many years ago. Maybe he wouldn't make a mess of it this time.

"Well then." Sniper grinned at him, taking a step back. "Guess it's time to go back, the air sure made me tired 'gain."

"Yes, me too." the Medic agreed, wishing to find some sleep finally, somewhere without the wind blowing around him. "How are zhe vounds, still hurting?"

"Yeah, like hell."

"I vill give you some painkiller vhen ve are inside. No, listen to your Medic, you need to rest, and zhat's easier vhen you are not in pain." he insisted when the man was about to protest.

"Nice way to treat a friend."

"Oh, and I vas just about to give you a pill instead of an injection."

"How considerate of you."

"Isn't zhat zhe truzh."

A slim, tall silhouette emerged from the shadows, unseen by the two men, the scarred face openly showing disgust and anger.

"You really are a disappointment."

x x x x x

Finally, after all these restless nights the Medic had been able to fall asleep. Spy had already been looking for them when they returned and was ready to take his turn and had been off again to ask for Pyro's assistance. The German had quickly checked Sniper's injuries and given him a mild painkiller, mixed with a sleeping drug to make sure that the Australian's body would have enough time to rest and recover.

At least some things would be easier from now on. He remembered the few days with the Australian from the past, and he felt as relaxed now as he did then. With the same hint of melancholy when he watched the man, a bit more than a hint when his mind recalled the Sniper's scent, but he shoved the unasked memory aside and instead he turned away and closed his eyes, too tired and worn out to dream anything.

"Finally." a snarling, low voice whispered when he opened his eyes. In the dim twilight he could see a man kneeling between his and the Sniper's cot, the face covered in systematical scars, a fierce, disgusted glow in the sharp, brown eyes.

Medic tried to scream, diffusely remembering this person, his subconscious digging out the memory of the attack against him a few days ago, some of the hand-shaped bruises still faintly covered his throat. The same hand that had tried to strangle him shut his mouth tight and when the German was about to jump from his bed, ready to fight back this time, he realized the man's other hand.

A gun was pointed at the Sniper's temple, one finger on the trigger.

The man grinned as Medic's eyes widened when he comprehended the whole situation.

Without moving the gun from its target, the stranger bent forward.

"Await me outside, at the car. Scream, a wrong move, and he's dead." he whispered in the German's ear and removed the hand.

The German had seen enough men like that, he knew this guy wasn't kidding. Biting on his tongue he nodded and got up, picked up his coat and, after one last look at the sleeping Australian, he went outside.

He tried to come up with a plan to alert the others, but as long as this madman sat there, completely still, the Sniper's life in his hand, there was nothing he could do. Furthermore, somehow, he felt that this might be the beginning of his own end. Something in the man's glare had told him that this time he didn't mean to let his prey get away alive.

Nervously, he opened the door of the Jeep, wondering if he should climb in, or wait or manipulate the car, thinking of a trap. His mind went blank when a strong blow against the back of his head knocked him out.

x x x x x to be continued x x x x x

_[Author's Note]_

_This was... a strange chapter to write oO I don't know. I had the script done the day before (one of my better, more useful scripts), yet it took me forever to get started. After 2,5 pages I thought "if I somehow manage to fill 6 pages I'm done for today and go to bed.". I struggled a bit more and suddenly, after 3,5 pages, things went smoother and I was surprised I had started page 9 when I was finished. oO_

_Okay, I shouldn't complain so much, but after all, I think it's quite funny how our brains work sometimes ^^°_

_Well, chapter 23. Follows 22 and will be continued with 24. Next week :D Thanks for reading :)_


	24. Chapter 24

**Spy around here!**

No, it was true, not everything went according to plan, but who cared? In the end, he would get the better of them, all of them. A few throwbacks. That couldn't even be called throwbacks. As it was, some of them had luck. Nothing but the damned luck of the idiots, that kind of luck that happens once every thousand years. They sure had used up their supply for more than one millennium. Incompetent fools with their preposterous skills. Skills?

Still half asleep, he chuckled. What a joke. This _team_ and their laughable _skills_. No surprise that the old fools were searching for alternatives. Sure, they were entertaining, but how could anybody invest any money in something stupid like this? Should he call the organization behind this crazy or rather pity them?

His eyes twitched, the loud, growling snores of the Soldier chased away the remains of his sleep. Oh well, it didn't matter. He stretched and used the time to relax. Fortunately, he was in a better shape than any of those flawed excuses of... yes, of what? Warriors? Certainly not. Fighters? Maybe, but some didn't even fight. Nothing but a bunch of imperfect amateurs.

Silently, he mused about the last few days, about the fun and excitement. What that fool Smith hadn't known – he wasn't following a specific plan. Plans were boring, the true challenge lay in using the opportunities, adapting to new situations, the trickier the better, making plans parallel to the flow of events. Alright, alright, he had spent some time to learn more about his opponents, or, as he preferred to call him, his little pawns. Mice. Toys. He smirked. Including a naive, silly idiot of a boy toy. Listening to stupid Smith would have cut him out of the fun to have his little game with the Scout. What a waste would that have been!

Smith didn't have any sense for imagination, completely lacking anything close to creativity. This, all this, was a piece of art, his very own, unique art. Good thing he got rid of that fool in time.

Now he was able to appreciate all the beauty of slyly crawling into the men's minds, pushing the buttons of their memories, playing them artfully like a delicate instrument that could break any moment if he pushed too hard. No, influence them carefully, step by step, and then there would be the most aesthetic sound – when the strings that linked their sanity to their mind snapped. Or the beautiful sight when hopeful eyes broke. The discovery of the little Scout's weakness was a stroke of luck, even if he didn't admit it, this part of his game made it easier to deal with those moments that didn't work out the way he had hoped.

Until now he hadn't planned to kill them. With one exception. That stupid Sniper. Sometimes, he told himself he had wanted him to get away anyway, but he knew, the truth was he had decided, rather spontaneously though, to kill him. That man had a bad influence, a very bad influence.

He remembered the sudden change in the Sniper's behavior, the way he reacted, or rather not reacted, to the injuries, the strength he suddenly had been able to mobilize had taken him by surprise.

If he hadn't been too obstinate, if he hadn't refused to think about this little lost battle things would have fallen into place so much earlier! There was only one answer to the Sniper's little secret, the answer to a question he had almost forgotten over the last few years and he was determined to find out if his own explanation was the truth.

But first he had to finish his little pranks with that Russian oaf and to rekindle the Soldier's doubts. At least those were easy tasks, nothing but a little warm-up. And then there was Pyro. He frowned, unable to admit that he had underestimated that guy. Why hadn't he known anything about the friendship between those two young men? That godforsaken little freak, impertinent idiot, how could he, who wasn't even able to show his ugly face, dare to defy him? Oh, he would get even with Pyro, sooner or later, and it wouldn't be nice and pleasant at all. But first things first, he tried to calm himself down.

With a sigh, he blinked. Suddenly, it had become noisy, Demoman had returned and was talking with Heavy. Annoying, primitive bastards, what did they think they were, the personification of comical relief in a tragedy?

He dismissed them from his mind, instead, from the corner of his eye, he watched the Medic. Still awake and reading, as he had done for hours now. He couldn't help but feel impressed by the endurance. Sure, he shouldn't be surprised, two years of training under the Reichsgesundheitsführer himself sure had strengthened the Medic's mind and body, if he only hadn't chosen another way instead of continuing his education. But now that he thought about it, and if his conclusions about the Sniper's strange recovery were correct, the German obviously had been closer involved with the background processes and experiments than he had expected. He had been disappointed by the way the events had turned out when the Medic had become a traitor after the war, but maybe he wasn't? Well, if anything was sure, then it was the fact that he would find out the truth sooner or later. That would be the moment when Medic certainly would confirm that the Sniper was another part of his experiments. True, a remarkable plan, but nothing else would have been acceptable for a man taken under the wing of a character like Conti.

Finally, Demoman and Heavy had left and it was silent again, as long as he could ignore the irregular sounds of snoring coming from the Sniper, Engineer and Soldier. He shut them out of his mind and fell asleep again and didn't wake up until Heavy and Demo returned.

Again he listened and for a moment he felt delight when he thought the opportunity had come. A few moments with the Medic alone would be enough to learn all information he needed when he heard the word "Spy". Already about to sit up and agree with the Medic's suggestion to let the Australian sleep and recover, he almost cursed loudly when the Sniper beat him to it.

This disgusting, primitive bushman again. No, he couldn't stand his silly behavior at all, stalking a married, educated man like that. As if Sniper of all people knew how to use a man like the Medic. Outrageous. Fortunately, the German didn't seem to be impressed by him at all. On the other hand, that was what he had expected, everything else would have been a real disappointment.

He waited until they had left and the other two were asleep again. His good mood was gone, and he wondered what he could do about it. For now he had slept enough, his body was rested and his mind busy and he could use some kind of distraction. Maybe he should follow those two, maybe this was a good chance to get rid of the Sniper for good and to find out more about the Medic's intentions and progress with his little project. If the German would actually redeem himself he might even let him alive, he could still be useful.

Or he could continue his little game with Heavy, or maybe focus on Demoman, or Soldier or Engineer? So many possibilities.

But he had to be careful, after Medic and Sniper it was his turn to take over guard duty, and as they probably wouldn't want Scout to end his rest he would have to team up with Pyro, and he didn't like that idea at all. That freak was suspecting him anyway, and if he had to deal and finish him for good now his cover would be blown. And this would end his game far too soon.

Why not kill two birds with one stone?

He grinned to himself and got up, making sure nobody noticed, and left the room.

x x x

During the last day checking his outfit had become a routine. After all, whatever happened, if his plans worked or not depended a lot on his performance as the Spy. Until now, it had been almost too easy to fool ihis/i teammates, even foolish, little, lovestruck Scout couldn't tell the difference. He chuckled. This was so amusing. Of course he wanted to act as Spy as long as possible, but on the other hand he couldn't wait to see the boy's face when he found out the truth.

But for now, he was Spy, so he adjusted his tie, his mask and, after clearing his throat, ready to speak with the perfect French accent, he opened the door to the next room, the improvised sickbay. It only took a quick glance to seize up the situation. Pyro had decided to sleep on the floor, satisfied with a blanket. As he still wore the rubber mask, only the regular sounds of his breath and the movements of his chest told him the man was asleep.

Scout slept on the chair, although it wasn't even fully enfolded into the bed. He walked closer and watched the boy's face with a grin. The skin around his eyes was red and the sleep was restless. Obviously caught in a not too pleasant dream Scout wore a haunted expression.

"Are you dreaming of me, little boy?" he whispered, but the boy didn't react.

"Time to wake you up, kid." He shook him by the shoulder and put a hand on his mouth when Scout opened his eyes and was about to scream.

"Chut, petit Scout, zis is moi, do not be afraid." With a gentle smile he removed his hand, inwardly relishing when the young man faintly smiled back and tried to fight shivering.

"Do not wake up ze Pyro, 'e will only disturb." He bent forward and kissed him, biting Scout's lip impatiently until he finally answered the kiss.

"Zis is my Scout." Appreciatively, he nodded when he drew back. "It is my turn to be on guard, mais I do not want to waste it wiz Pyro." A glance aside assured him that the man in question hadn't stirred at all. He continued whispering directly into the boy's ear. "I want you to come wiz me, Scout. You are impatient aussi, non? To continue wiz anozer quick lesson..." His hand moved under the shirt right above the cut and he pressed his fingers against the small bandage before he shoved them under the waistline of Scout's pants and touched the soft, curly hair. The young man's face was like an open book, plainly showing his fighting emotions, a battle between instinctive fear, yearning and determination not to be weak. He reached a bit deeper but quickly pulled back when something stung into his back.

"G't l'st, S'y." a familiar, muffled voice growled and Spy didn't have to turn around to know that the end of the flamethrower was pressed against his spine.

"What is zis, mon ami, zreatening a teammate? Zis is not très nice, don't you zink?" He smiled, his hand still on the Scout's stomach.

"It's not 'ice to 'ake h'm up w'en he 'eeds t' slee'. Es'ecia'y a'ter y'r... s'ecial treat'ent, 'astard."

"Pyro, my friend. I was zinking about toi, we do not like each ozer much zese days, non? Zis is why I just wanted to ask petit Scout 'ere to share ze guarding wiz me. Zis is nozing bad, n'est-ce pas?" His voice was friendly, but neither Pyro nor Scout failed to notice the underlying, threatening tone, not too different from the Pyro's.

"Sh've it u' y'r ass. E'en he does't buy it. 'ight, Sc't?"

But the boy only looked away, facing neither of them.

"See, 'e doesn't object. 'e wants to be wiz me. So, why do you not want 'im to be 'appy? Zis is not very good, Pyro, zis is not 'ow a friend be'aves. Right, mon petit?"

"Well, I..." His head hurt, this was too much for him to deal with, right after waking up. Actually, the Pyro's concern was feeling good, but he had promised to listen to whatever Spy would tell him to do. This was his chance to show him he was a man, not a child, and that he could cope with everything Spy expected from him.

"S'y, may'e you 'ink you can foo' h'm, b't not me..." Pyro spoke again, and Scout heard a clicking sound. He had released the safety catch of the flamethrower. Either way, the boy had to make up his mind, and right now he had to protect the Spy from Pyro's obsession for fire.

"Pyro, thank ya, but I think it's still my decision. Told ya before, I say what I want and what not, got it?" He pushed the blanket aside and was about to jump from the chair. Spy smiled triumphantly.

"See, mon ami? Ze Scout does know what is good for 'im, 'e can 'andle a strong, passionate 'and. See?" He grabbed Scout by his hair and kissed him again, his other hand on the boy's bottom, pressing him closer. When the young man gasped by the surprise, he shoved his tongue deeper, easily provoking a small moan. But he quickly released him and licked his lips. It was too easy to put the boy under his spell again, there would be no objection from Scout anytime soon. He didn't turn around when he spoke to Pyro again.

"It is not ze fault of moi zat you were sleeping peacefully in ze 'ospital when zey caught your fiance, non?"

Behind him he could hear the ignition of the small gas flame at the end of the weapon. Wonderful, he even had gotten the chance to mess with this stupid, interfering idiot's mind after all tonight and his bad mood vanished. But better not push the matter now, nothing aggravates such a delicate situation like an enraged Pyro with a well-working weapon that could set him on fire within a second.

"Come, mon petit. Let us go. I like it 'ot, but zere are limits." Chuckling, he seized Scout by the wrist and pulled him along.

"W'll, if that's 'ow you 'ant t' pl'y..." Pyro switched off his weapon and joined them, catching the surprised Spy by his free arm.

"'ope you 'on't 'ind if I joi', I 'ink we shou'd ask So'ier for 'is ad'ice." he chattered casually. "I'm sur' w'en I gi'e him all the infor'ation I 'ave he 'ill deci'e what's the 'est for Sc't, concer'ing g'ard duty to'ight."

"Pyro! I don't think that's a good idea!" Scout stopped abruptly, almost making the French stumble. "Ya know, whatever ya doin' is fine, but I don't wanna involve Soldier!" It was not hard to guess how the American would react. But he didn't fear the reaction, alone the idea of the others knowing about what happened between him and Spy, how it happened... No, that was _his _business, he would deal with it alone and the others better shut up.

"Fine! Have it your way." Spy growled, realizing he had lost for now, because of something silly and childish like telling tales. How could they dare!

"I just zought you would _love_ to be wiz me, as you said you _love_ moi only a few 'ours ago, but obviously, I overvalued your words, Scout." With a snort, he pushed the Scout away from him when the boy tried to touch him by his arm.

"I understand. 'ave fun 'ere, wiz your funny little friend. Zat's why I usually keep away from children. Not worz ze trouble."

"Hey, wait, man!" But Spy had already left, ignoring Scout's words.

By now, Scout wondered if all that happened around him was only there to confuse him. As before, he felt gratitude towards Pyro, although he didn't like to admit it. Repeating what Spy had done to him, no, what they had done together earlier... he wasn't sure if he would have been able to take it again so soon. But Spy was angry, he should really go after him and apologize. Maybe he could explain...

"Godda'ned ass'ole." Pyro's words interrupted his thoughts. "'eally, Sc't, do you 'ink that's 'ow so'eone w'o lo'es you be'av's? Get rea'!"

This was too much. Gratitude or not, Spy loved him, he had shown it earlier, and Scout had promised to trust him. Okay, now the man was angry, so what? He himself got angry all the time.

"Could ya get it into ya fat head,_ I_ know what I'm doin'! He loves me, and when I wanna fuck him I fuck him, no matter whaddya thinkin' 'bout that, and when I wanted to do it now, I would go after him, got it? I'm just tired and still fuckin' cold from that fuckin' water. Now shut up and lemme sleep!" Ignoring Pyro like Spy had ignored him a moment before, Scout went back to his chair, kicked away his shoes and crawled under the blanket.

Pyro only shook his head.

"'ext you 're goin' to tell me 'at's all y'r fau't, you deser'ed it and he 'ill ch'nge b'cause 'e said it, r'ght?" All he got was another "Shut up." Anyway, this situation had finally convinced him that there was something wrong, really wrong with their Spy. For a moment he considered going to Soldier, or even better, Heavy and Demoman first, anyway. But he didn't feel sure if it was a good idea to leave the boy alone. He didn't trust Spy anymore.

x x x

"This stupid rubber rat, who does he think he is?" he growled under his breath, fighting his anger down, otherwise he would have given his position away. After the incident with Pyro and the disobedient Scout he had decided to observe the Medic and the Sniper, hoping that the fresh air would calm down his temper. He hated it when people didn't act like he wanted them to do and he was determined to have them pay for their insolence. As he imagined how he could get even with them he finally regained control of his mind. If he hadn't left a few minutes ago he would probably have tried to knock down the Pyro and simply show Scout what he expected him to do when he called for the boy. The idea still was tempting, but he knew it wasn't wise. Even 'Spy' wouldn't have gotten away with that and all his carefully set up work would have been in vain. No, he couldn't allow them to fool him, but he couldn't allow himself to spoil his own game with a sudden outburst of scorn.

"Just wait, idiots, just wait for a little bit longer."

Quickly he took cover behind a large formation of boulders when the two men came closer. Unfortunately he couldn't hear them, so he focused on their body language. The Sniper wasn't in a very good shape, he could see that, their fight in the desert had left it's marks. The Australian limped over the dusty ground and it was obvious that he tried to keep his arm as still as possible. His face was badly affected, too, swollen and the right cheek of a blue-greenish color.

He smirked. His earlier victim moved like an old man, without his luck he would have died for sure. Impressive how he had managed to fight and run despite all his injuries.

The more important it was to him to confront the Medic. By now he was absolutely sure that the man held the key to that strange transformation. Just thinking about the possibilities his discovery earned him filled him with excitement. Only a few steps, a few quick jumps separated him from the final answer that could mean unlimited power and influence. But it was better to be careful, at least for a little bit longer.

Lost in his thoughts for a minute a sudden laughter brought him back to reality. He rushed forward, still well hidden in the shadows, but he stopped abruptly when the two men were again in his sight. He frowned in disgust when he saw the Sniper standing so close to the Medic, and instead of simply telling him were his place was, the German took his hand. Did he... did he really allow that dunce to kiss him? They were too far away and from his angle he couldn't tell for sure. Yet, how they stood there, it was repulsive. So what he feared was true. The Medic was a traitor after all, his body language didn't support the theory of using the Sniper for experiments.

He wished he could simply kill them, one after another, slowly and painfully thrusting his knife into the soft flesh of their inferior bodies, cutting them open and watching their dying faces. Might the man be of use or not, voluntary or with force, there was no way he would spare a traitor. This man wasn't of the same standard as himself, just like the others, and he would end his pathetic existence soon enough.

He observed them as they walked back, finally stepping out of the shadows.

"You really are a disappointment."

A new, little scheme had formed in his brain. He pulled a small radio device out of his pocket and adjusted the right frequency.

"Mike? Wagner speaking. How close are you? Good. Give me Alpha." He waited impatiently until he heard another man speaking. "Alpha? Who is with you? Fine. Here is your next order – move closer to base two, but park the car out of their hearing range. You and Charlie will walk the rest and hide somewhere close to the jeep. Don't touch or change anything. Listen closely, I only tell you once, mess this up and you face the consequences, understood? Very good, here is what will happen..."

He quickly told him his plan and once he had shut off the connection and put the radio transmitter away his mood was a lot better. Even if this didn't work he would have the pleasure to let his anger out on one of his subordinates.

x x x

Wagner grinned maliciously as he watched the sleeping Sniper, his gun still pointed at the Australian's head.

"Oh my, oh my, that such a terrible thing should happen while I'm on watch, poor Sniper. Just a little 'click' – and you were dead." He put his gun away and stood up. "But that would be boring, don't you agree? My, you really are the ugliest sleeping beauty I've ever seen." When he heard a grumbling sound from behind he abruptly turned around and listened to the darkness. Nothing happened. Obviously one of the other men was just turning. Of course. It was rather unlikely anybody would notice him, after all, he had made sure to be quiet and to lower his voice.

He pulled the mask off his head and stuffed it into his pocket as he walked outside.

When he saw his men, two tall, broad shouldered brutes – all muscles but no brains, the perfect subordinates and handymen for jobs that didn't require much skill - his mood was light and almost cheerful. Another plan that worked well, as expected. The unconscious Medic lay on the ground at their feet, hands and legs bound so he couldn't simply escape even if he woke up anytime soon.

Wagner kneeled down and controlled the man's pulse.

"Good, you didn't kill him, very good." He checked the small wound on the Medic's head, caused by the blow, but it wasn't serious, only a bit of blood and probably a headache. That was nothing compared to what he had in store for him.

"We take him back with us. You stay here, right, Sir Wagner?" One of the brutes asked. Both looked a lot alike, on the first glance almost like twins, but after a closer look it was obvious they weren't related. All the similarities came from identical clothes, identical haircuts, identical mimic and gestures.

"Right, Charlie. You actually remembered. I'm proud of you." Wagner mocked him, but as usually, they didn't understand the concept of irony.

"Thank you, boss."

Wagner rolled his eyes. 'Idiots.'

"Wait a second!" he suddenly interjected when the slightly smaller one, Alpha, was about to pick the Medic up. From the inner pocket of his jacket he took a small bottle, similar to the one he had left between the Medic's belongings a few days ago as a little act of courtesy, well, rather a sign of his dominance. Quickly, he filled a syringe and injected the liquid.

"This will keep him asleep for a little while, so he won't cause any trouble. Proceed as planned once you are back. But I warn you, don't kill him! I'll follow later. Off with you!" he snapped at them and turned around, walking back to the train that stood so quiet and peacefully amidst the otherwise lonely desert.

He waited a few minutes in the corridor. About five minutes should be enough for those fools to get away far enough, five more and they should have reached their car.

'The car...'

Cursing those idiots and this stupid team he walked back outside, to the position of the Sentry.

Reliable as always the little building was on guard, its small controll lights flashing while its head turnes from right to left and back, pointing the guns at the various directions. An encounter, especially at this close range, should have ended deadly for him.

'Too bad, dear Engineer, that you've forgotten to check the implemented data for your teammates.' He chuckled. Although he didn't like to admit it – this construction wasn't too shabby, he had to respect the Engineer for that. Of course, it wasn't perfect. He should get his hands on the blueprints of this thing sooner or later. But for now, he had to take care of the car.

Fortunately he knew that the Engineer always kept a little emergency supply of basic tools close to his buildings, so it was no problem to borrow some of them. With haste he returned to the Jeep and opened the engine cover.

Careful not to make too much noise he began to loosen several screws, cut through cables and managed to perforate the oil tank. As intended, most of his _adjustments _weren't visible on the first sight. This would keep them away from his hideout a little longer.

Satisfied with his work he cleaned his hands with a handkerchief and put on his gloves and mask. Nobody would spot any suspicious oil stains on him.

Chuckling to himself he went inside once more and headed to the Pyro's and Scout's room without any further delay.

"Bonjour, lovebirds." His voice sounded hurt and sulky. "Maintenant, zis is your shift. I am done, so 'ave at least the decency to get up. And do not make zat much noise, moi, I do not want to deal wiz an angry Soldier now." Without another word and avoiding the Scout's asking eyes he turned away and went out again. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to catch some sleep after all. Sure, not that he already needed it, but it couldn't hurt. And as long as everyone was asleep neither Scout nor Pyro would come and disturb them, and the longer the disappearance of the German went unnoticed, the better.

Now again he was the Spy, and Spy was tired from his shift he had to do alone, and so he stretched on his bed and soon started to dream about his victories, past and to come.

x x x

Slowly, he opened his eyes, but it was still dark. Was it dark or was he still unconscious? He tried to move but couldn't. Bit by bit his memory returned. The gun, this man, the one who had attacked him before, he remembered him now. The threat, Nicholas. How he left the train and the next thing he had felt was a blow against his head... now that he thought about it his head started to hurt and although he was sure the darkness around him was caused by the absence of light and not by a malfunction of his eyes, his vision was strangely blurry. As if the darkness moved and convulsed and different shades of black swirled in an absurd rhythm.

"Nein, not again..." he groaned, immediately knowing that once again someone had given him a dose of this strange, improved mescalin. Again he tried to move but his hands were bound. Or was it the drug that hindered him? He turned, now facing what he thought was the ceiling. It didn't make any difference. Whatever direction he had chosen, he would have faced the same, infinite darkness. Cold sweat ran down his temples and he focused on his breath, trying to fight the nauseousness that crept up his throat.

"Where am I..."

x x x

_He dreamed of the hunt. His prey wouldn't stop, no matter how swift he was, whatever weapon he chose, he couldn't hit it. Even when he tried to wrestle it down with his bare hands the creature didn't yield. He turned around, and was alone, something was missing. Somewhere from afar he heard his name... Then there was his mother._

"_Just five moar minutes, ma..." he told her._

"_Getting up you must." she answered with a deep, growling voice that was so unlike her._

"_What?"_

"_Strange this coffee tastes, what is wrong?"_

_The sheep around him started to laugh, only the black one yelled back._

"_Drink it or not, but shut up, maggot!"_

Confused, the Sniper opened his eyes, wondering for a moment where he was. Then he remembered. He had swallowed some pills that should help against the pain in his body and let him sleep. They let him indeed. What a silly dream.

He blinked and saw Heavy, Soldier and the Engineer standing at the other end of the room, around the coffee maker. The Russian and the Veteran obviously discussing something, the Texan holding his sides from laughing.

He lifted his head, but the Medic's bed was empty. For a second, he was worried and about to jump out of his bed, but the stiffness of his muscles reminded him to take it slow. Of course it was silly to worry. He was probably looking after the Scout. Or having one of his secret conversations with Pyro.

Sniper yawned, shoving away the irrational pang of jealousy. What if Pyro was friends with their Medic. He thought of their conversation from the night before and sighed. Just like they were.

'Coffee...'

Not the worst idea. As he stood up the blanket fell to the floor and stayed there. Sniper grabbed the substitute for his hat – he still couldn't call it _his_ hat – and joined the other three men. No, four men, Spy was back as well and joked with the Engineer. Obviously, everyone was in a good mood.

x x x

Finally, the world in and outside his head spun slower. He still lay on his back and now he could feel the cold from the metallic floor as it crept through his clothes and skin right into his bones. Being locked away in the darkness, alone, unable to move... he shivered at the memories that flooded his mind, memories of a part of his youth he wanted to forget so badly. But this was more than twenty years ago, this was different and he certainly wouldn't give in just like that ever again.

Once more he tried to move his hands behind his back. A tightly knotted rope roughened his skin. The same result when he moved his legs.

"Verdammte Scheiße." But at least he somehow managed to sit up, almost regretting it as at once the sickness returned.

From far away, he heard footsteps echoing from metallic walls.

x x x

"Hey mates." Sniper yawned again and gladly accepted the mug filled with dark black coffee the Spy handed him. "Thank ya, spook."

"Bien." Spy answered his smile. "'ow are you, Sniper? Still 'urting?"

Sniper took a sip from the hot liquid and grimaced.

"What is this, tar mixed with dishwater from hell?" Ignoring the Soldier's insults he emptied the cup anyway. "I'm fine, no worries. Could be worse. Well... Anybody of ya blokes seen Medic?" he asked casually and looked around, puzzled by the grins he received in return.

"WHAT?"

"Oh nothing." answered Soldier with a most amiable voice. "Missing your girlfriend, are you, sweetheart?"

A bewildered Sniper stared at him and he almost burst with laughter. The fact that the Engineer and Heavy didn't even try to hold back didn't make it easier to keep his countenance.

"What the fuck are ya talkin' 'bout?"

"Ah think he's talkin' 'bout that kiss that could have knocked up the pope, son." Engineer smiled widely at him. Obviously the Australian couldn't remember the performance he had given when he had returned.

"I did WHAT?" He tried to remember but couldn't. When did that happen? And why did the others know about it and he didn't?

"Easy, son, it ain't no big story." The Texan slapped him friendly on his shoulder. "Ya remember the night ya returned?"

"Well... kinda, that I returned, but not really how... bloody hell, could ya wankers stop grinning for a sec and tell me what's so funny?" he growled, losing his patience.

"Through roof Sniper jumped, covered with so much blood." Heavy, in one of his good-natured moods, explained..

"Surprised us all you had, but Medic about to check your injuries he was and you..." he chuckled.

"What he's tryin' ta say – ya got kinda clingy, called him by his real name and, well, kissed him, pissin' Medic off like hell, that's all." Engineer helped.

"Ya kiddin' me, I didn't do somethin' like that!" Sniper frowned – if this was the truth... Suddenly the Medic's unfriendly behavior when he treated his wounds seemed very understandable.

'Gawd, I'm lucky he didn't kill me. Gotta apologize...'

"If not believe us you do, Demo you must ask. Love to tell all you said he should." Heavy grinned.

"Here he comes."

The door opened, and Pyro, Scout and the Demoman entered together and joined them.

The Engineer noticed that the Scout still looked rather pale and wondered if it was alright he was already up or if he needed more rest. No, that was not all - something was wrong with his eyes, but the Texan couldn't tell what.

'Well, after all, the kid has had a hard time lately.' Then he noticed the Sniper's face that suddenly looked very white, too, as he stared at the three newcomers, and the Engineer understood at once.

"Demoman, where is the Medic? This puppy is feeling lost and lonely without his master." Soldier asked, still grinning, but getting serious the moment he saw how Scout, Pyro and Demoman looked at each other in amazement.

"What are ye talkin' 'bout, laddie, me thought he was with ye guys here. Haven't seen ol' doc since yesterday..."

x x x to be continued x x x

_I'm sorry for the delay -_- I can't remember the last time when a cold knocked me out like this. Yes, for some reason, I caught something that my doc called "not a typical cold, a virus infection, but not a flu.". Whatever, it was annoying, partly still is : (_

_But if nothing stupid like this happens again I'm quite optimistic that I'll update every weekend, as I did before the Christmas break ^^_

_I know, this is more or less a filler that doesn't solve or answer anything, I hope it's not too boring ^^_

_Translations:_

_Spy:_  
><em>maintenant - now<em>

_Medic:_  
><em>"Verdammte Scheiße" = "Goddamned shit" (basically - "FUCK!")<em>


	25. Chapter 25

_[Author's note]a few German translations at the bottom, as usual ^^ [/Author's note]_**  
><strong>

**Don't mess with me!**

"Vho are you?"

From the impact their footsteps had made the Medic knew they were huge and therefore probably strong. And there were two of them now, standing in front of him, above him, silently. The door had been opened and closed again too quickly, no chance for his eyes to make use of the small shimmer of light from the outside corridor. Was that why they didn't move, did they try to get used to the darkness?

"Vhere am I?" he demanded, but all questions remained unanswered, they didn't speak at all. More time passed, probably only a minute or two, and although time seemed to flow slowly he couldn't come up with a plan to escape this undignified predicament. He refused the urge to struggle, his mind knew he wouldn't be able to fight, bound like this, and all actions he could take would only result in nothing but him giving a pathetic sight to his captors.

'Never give up zhe control of a situation, no matter how small it is.' was all that echoed in his head, an old mantra from times he preferred to forget, but nevertheless helpful, as usual. So even when one of the men suddenly moved, kneeled down next to him, while he still only could stare into the darkness, not even the tiniest muscle twitched, no matter how much fear clenched his gut.

"I vant you to tell me vho you are and vhy I'm here!" Faking a tone of authority despite his momentary inferiority didn't impress the men - not that he was surprised, no man in his right senses would have been fooled into believing that he had an ace up in his sleeve, but at least he tried.

Suddenly he felt something against his lips, the hard edge of a glass or a cup and he turned away, but the man seized him by his hair and tried to force him to drink. Panic mixed with a sudden idea, and more on an impulse his upper body leaped forward, and although his reach was limited by the strong grip pulling him back at once he managed to hit against the arm holding the drink with his shoulder.

Surprised by the unexpected attack the man let go of the cup, as the sound of fragile chinaware crashing against a hard surface proved.

A fist hit his chin, followed by a kick against his stomach, and with nothing to support his body he went down again, lying on his back once more.

Another kick brushed his side, obviously the man couldn't see that well after all. He breathed in sharply when the next attack didn't miss. Preparing himself to the thought of being beaten to death after all he expected the next blow, still keeping control, refusing to scream.

"Don't kill him, he said. Let's go."

The Medic stared in the direction the voice came from. He had almost forgotten about the second man. So again, he wasn't going to die. Something felt wet against the back of his head. Blood? No, he hadn't been hit there, and his impact on the floor hadn't been hard enough to cause a bleeding wound.

Impatiently he waited until the two men left, neither of the two of them speaking another word. Finally, they were gone, and with a groan of pain he shifted on the ground, hoping that his little idea had worked and not been, literally, blown to smithereens.

"Und dann Gnade Euch Gott..."

x x x

"Fuck! How could that happen!" Angry with himself and his teammates the Sniper climbed into the train, limping back his way to those that had remained or were already back inside.

Most of them had returned, only Spy was still gone.

"Found somethin'? Traces, hints, ANYTHING?" But all they could do was shaking their heads.

"Gawddamned wankas, how could y'lose one of us 'gain? _Him_ 'gain?" he went on, of course being aware that raging wouldn't help anything, but he had to vent his anger. Before his accident on the roof he had felt useless, but that was nothing compared to the feeling of uselessness and being helpless he felt right now.

"Uh yeah, 'specially with ya bein' such a big help 'n all." the Scout retorted, regretting his remark when the Australian suddenly turned around and grabbed him by his shirt. "Let go of me! Don't touch me!" the boy yelled when the Sniper shook him.

"Oi'd be outside right naow, turnin' ev'ry stone of that fuckin' desert when oi could, drongo, 'n when oi weren' sleepin' lika log 'cause o' that fuckin' sleepin' pill he gave me this wouldn't happen at all!"

"Good thing ya did, we don't need more guys running away, outta their mind, pardner. Let the kid go!" the Engineer admonished him firmly. "And for heaven's sake, calm down!"

Still growling and cursing under his breath the Sniper pushed the Scout away and faced the Texan. Although the man seemed unruffled as usual Sniper could read the worry in the Engineer's face. Slowly, his anger simmered down.

"I'm sorry, mate. Ya right. Okay, what's the plan?" he addressed the Soldier who had remained silent during the last few minutes.

"Who tells us he didn't leave on purpose, because..." the veteran mused almost absentmindedly, but stopped when the Demoman gave him a push with his elbow. "WHAT?"

"Ye back with us?" Narrowing his good eye, the Scotsman looked at him reproachfully.

"Not that shit again, thought ya finally snapped out of it." the Engineer sighed, but before the Soldier could answer the door opened and the Spy joined them.

"Any luck, lad?" Demoman inquired and the Spy shook his head, letting himself drop on the chair next to the Scout.

"Non, mon ami. But whatever 'appened, 'e didn't take ze car... but..."

"But WHAT?" the Soldier bellowed, thoroughly fed up with the bad news that didn't seem to stop since they had set foot in this goddamned train.

"Ze tires are flat. Ze zing won't go anywhere until we repair it." the French reported as a matter of fact. "Seems like we are still stuck 'ere, Monsieur Soldier."

"Bullshit." the American snorted and turned to the Engineer. "That is a job for you, can you fix it?"

"Built a car from scrap metal and a shot-down helicopter, just tellin' in case ya forgot." the Texan stated, almost insulted. "Ya'd patchin' a set of tires should be a cakewalk for me."

"Just making sure." the Soldier grinned. "Wait, before you go – did anyone notice something strange during their shift? I want to know where you were and when this could have happened. Whatever happened..." he finished.

But none of them had noticed anything.

Spy sighed.

"'e was still zere when I went to bed, after waking up le Pyro and Scout. You did not see somezing?" With raised eyebrows he questioningly looked at the Pyro. Despite the mask Spy felt the glare of the short man.

"We 'ent b'ck to t'e s'ckbay aft'r our sh'ft." he explained, still watching the Spy. "'aybe we should 'ave ch'cked here, too, b't we dn't wn't to 'ake ev'ryb'dy up. B't I dn't not'ce a'ybody c'me or go w'ile we wer' outs'de. You, Sc't?"

"No, nothin'." the boy confirmed. "'kay, I was still kinda tired, but we didn't talk much, guess we'd heard when somebody walked 'round then... Sorry..." Cautiously, he eyed the Sniper, as if he feared the Australian would attack him again, blaming him.

"It's okay, mate." Sniper reassured him weakly. "But what about this morning, when everyone was back? Why didn't anybody notice he was gone?"

That was a valid question after all, and it made them thinking.

"Well, Pyro 'n I weren't here at all, I thought Doc was here. Later, Demo came over." Scout finally said, and Pyro nodded in agreement.

"Aye... me was the first wakin' up." Demoman remembered. "To tell ye the truth, me didn't check the beds, didn't notice anybody being here or gone." he admitted. "Just wanted to have a nice leetle talk with ol' Pyro here. We sat down in the corridor, letting the kid sleep. No soul went by. Ye noticed somethin', lad?" he passed the question to Heavy who frowned.

"Demoman leave I saw, but continue sleeping. When wake up, Soldier and Engineer awake already, no Spy, and Sniper asleep. Doktor with Scout I thought." He sighed. "No help I am, I is sorry."

"Ah thought the same, him bein' with Scout. Guess that's what all of us thought." the Engineer resumed.

"So all we know is that we know nothing. What a great team of professionals we are. All of us." Soldier sneered sarcastically. "Anyway. We better get moving. Engineer, you repair the car, we are coming with you and help. Off we go!"

They followed the two older Americans. Sniper caught up with the Engineer, asking him about his rifle, grinning humorlessly but satisfied at the answer he received.

The Spy fell behind, watching the men intensely, especially Heavy, but the Russian didn't do anything out of his usual behavior.

'Time to do something about that.' he growled inwardly, speeding up.

"Out of ze way, rubber duck!" he hissed, pushing the Pyro aside, and joined the Engineer's and Sniper's conversation, feeling Pyro scornfully glaring at his back.

x x x

"Ah! Verdammt noch mal..." he cursed when he cut into the flesh of his wrist again. The blood made the broken piece of the cup slippery in his hand and he almost dropped it. More blood dripped from his fingertips, but for now, the flow wasn't concerning, he hadn't cut too deep.

Anxiously he listened to the darkness, waiting for the men's return, but nothing could be heard except his own heartbeat and hastened breathing. They could be back any time and finish their work, and he really didn't want to wait for that.

"Vorzhless scum. Just vait, I can't avait to drain you of every drop of blood... just vait..." He shifted the shard between his fingers and let the sharp edge work against the rope, slowly cutting through it. The smaller edges were equally sharp, but he didn't even feel it when his fingers started to bleed as well.

"Just vait... wartet nur... ich schlitz Euch auf... Stück für Stück... wartet nur..."

Finally, the cord snapped and he smiled.

x x x

"Alright boys, this is how we gonna proceed!" Soldier was eagerly orating as usual. "Pack up, reload your weapons, stock up with canned food, water and first aid packs, and get ready to leave! We climb the car and follow the tracks."

"Why on earz do we want to follow ze tracks, all of us in zat petit car?" Spy queried the plan.

"Ahem, Gentlemen, this is all about what we have now. No hints somebody walked off into the wasteland. No hints along the tracks, yes. But it is very plausible we will find something if we follow those goddamned tracks and... and... AND I WILL NOT HAVE YOU QUESTION MY DECISIONS, CROUTON!" he suddenly shouted.

The Spy raised his hands in defense but didn't say anything else.

"But car still tiny leetle car is." Heavy pointed out thoughtfully. When he, Pyro and the Demoman had returned with it, it had just been big enough for the three of them, maybe they could squeeze in the Scout or Engineer, but as for the others... not to mention their weapons and provision.

"Erm... we will talk about that later, Heavy." Soldier procrastinated the matter. "Anyway, once we meet more of those hippies, we blow them up and then..."

"No blowin' up, Soldier! Not before asking questions, ya hotheaded, it's 'bout time to solve this mystery... Dammit!" The Engineer called from under the engine cover, cursing when something exploded and black smoke engulfed his head. "Whoever did that to the poor thing ain't no amateur, he knew what he was doin'." Speaking more to himself than to the others he coughed, waited until the smoke disappeared and continued with the repairs. Mending the tires wasn't a challenge and quickly done, but a glance at the engine, after they tried to start the car in vain, had told him that the real work was just about to begin.

"Could ya blokes stop foolin' 'round and get down to business?" Sniper grew more and more restless by the minute. "We're wastin' time here..."

"One step at the time, maggot! Move your ass and get your equipment ready, and make haste! If the Engineer cannot fix that thing it's plan B."

"Great, what's plan B?" Scout pulled a face. He knew from experience that a Plan B by Soldier usually meant trouble.

"You will see when you return, kid. Would you kindly consider preparing and, but only if it's not too much trouble for you, and MOVE YOUR SCRAWNY ASS RIGHT NOW BEFORE I DECIDE TO SPEED YOUR SORRY SELF UP?"

"Alright, alright." Quickly, the boy jumped from the boulder he was sitting on, flinching when his legs and his hip hurt. "Geez, Plan B already sucks..." But he didn't wish to provoke the Soldier more than necessary and hurried back into the train for his weapons.

"Kid's quick, ya better hurry 'n come up with ya 'Plan B' before he returns, John." Engineer stated, his upper half still invisible, busily inspecting and fixing cables and tightening screws.

Soldier was about to reply, his mouth already opened, when a loud roar caught his attention. The Texan, too, lifted his head, glancing at the small group close to the train.

Something dangled from the Demoman's hand, sparkling as it reflected the sunlight.

"HOW PYRO GET THIS I ASK!" the massive Russian shouted, pointing a large finger at the small man's chest.

"I dnt' 'now wa't you 'r t'lkin' 'bout!" the Pyro defended himself, obviously at loss.

"THEN WHY AMULETT IN POCKET OF PYRO DEMO FOUND?" The Heavy's face was crimson, and a vein throbbed dangerously on his forehead. Soldier hurriedly rushed to them, when Heavy would lose control of his temper... he readied his shotgun, hoping he wouldn't need it.

"...my suit 'oesn't e'en 'ave p'ckets..." The short man was still confused, staring at the amulet held by Demoman.

"Well... technically me didn't find eet in his pocket..." The Scotsman scratched his head. "Just saw eet fell down, ye know, might have stuck at them gas bottles or the belt..."

"THIS IS NOT POINT!" the enraged Heavy bellowed, his giant hands closing around the Pyro's neck. "WHY YOU HAVE IT? WHY LEETLE PYRO IS THIEF, NOT FRIEND?"

Suddenly, the Demoman's expression changed, from confusion to realization, and from the way Pyro lifted his head he knew his friend had a similar thought.

"Let him go, lad! He can't speek when ye choke him!" Sighing with relief Demoman watched how Heavy drew back his hands.

Pyro coughed and grasped for air before he spoke.

"I f'nd it a f'w m'nutes 'go, you dr'pped it, w's 'bout to 'ive it b'ck, but S'ldier st'rted to spe'k. Just w'en I w'nted to r'turn it, I not'ced I lost it, too." he explained calmly. He and Heavy looked at the Demoman who nodded.

The others held their breath, Scout tried to hide behind the Sniper. If Heavy didn't believe their Pyro things would turn ugly any second.

"Oh." Heavy finally exclaimed and took the amulet back from the Demoman, with an understanding smile on his face, his skin regaining its usual color. "So that's all that to it is. Let us then go, my friend." With a laugh, he put the amulet back around his wide neck and patted the Pyro's shoulder.

His teammates were as puzzled as Pyro before. But there was no time to wonder about this sudden turn out of events, they had to hurry. If this incident resolved itself so quickly and peacefully, the better for them all.

None of them had noticed the twinkle in the Demoman's eye and how he winked at both the Pyro and the Heavy.

None of them but the Spy, who now walked behind them with a frown. 'Why would that rubber gnome lie about...'

"DAGNABBIT FREAKIN' DARN SON OF A BITCH!" Another detonation from the car, followed by the Engineer's curses diverted their attention from the strange quarrel.

"Engineer, do you think it is impossible to fix it?" Soldier dashed back to the Texan, worried.

"Actually..." The Engineer climbed from the rock he had used to get a better access to the car's inner workings, coughing, but also smiling. "Actually, things are goin' pretty well. Gonna have that thing ready sooner or later. Don't ya bother ya head 'bout us."

x x x

His whole body was quivering with the emotion, the sensation of feeling the warm, sticky blood running through his fingers. The door stood wide open and a cone of light fell on the dead body in front of him.

"I told you, just vait... I varned you, but you didn't listen, did you?" he chuckled, patting the dead man's cheek. The surprise was still written in his mutilated face and didn't vanish when the Medic gently loosened the knife from his victim's belt and slowly cut across the skin of the man's throat. Another stream of blood rushed from the fresh, dark gap, but as the pulse had stopped along with the beating of his heart it dried up soon. More of the red liquid, more slimy, oozed from the hole of the man's eye, mixing with the streams now drying on his face.

The Medic knew he had been lucky when the first thing the sharp edge of the shard drilled in was an eye. Otherwise he probably wouldn't have been able to stand a chance against the huge man, a mere flesh wound wouldn't have impressed him much, as he had experienced it more than once from their Heavy.

Yes, it was luck, but he didn't question it. The rest – making use of the opportunity, snatching away the gun from his victim was easy, as was firing it at his stomach. Twice. The giant had collapsed, still twitching, blood running from the hole in his torso and from his mouth while the Medic sat down next to him and watched his face as he died.

Just another cut. Along the jaw, along the cheekbone. Just to make sure he was dead. It was not until then that he had noticed a pain in his arm. He turned his head. Indifferently he removed the syringe that stuck in his flesh. Obviously the man had somehow managed to ram it through his clothes. The Medic didn't mind. This was nothing. He was alive and the burning sensation that ran through his veins wasn't new to him.

His hand covered the open skin of the opened throat. No pulse. No more need to test if his victim was still alive. Almost gently his fingertip ran along the cut.

"I vonder... if I vere quick enough... at vhich point stopped zhe beating? Vhen did I miss zhe moment to feel your heart pulsating in my hands?" he asked softly. Then he stood up. His shirt was red, like in a dream he tried to dust it off, but only smeared it up more than before. His hands were red, too. For a second he looked at them. And then he laughed. A bitter, triumphant, yet desperate laugh.

"Komm raus, komm raus wo immer Du bist!" he jested in a dark, tantalizing voice. Smiled as he shoved up his glasses that had almost fallen off his nose. More trails of blood on his face.

"Don't tell me you haven't heard zhe shots! Come! I am vaiting for you!" Still laughing, he stepped over the corpse and left the room. The warm, burning sensation had reached his head and he felt dizzy again. Soon the world would spin again, then he would sleep. And wake up again. Or maybe not. Who knew, who cared.

He stumbled along the contorting corridor, using the walls to prevent his body from falling down, and no matter how hard he tried to avert his eyes, he couldn't escape the swirling flashes of absurdly bright, colorful light. Footsteps from somewhere. Wherever. From close or afar, it didn't matter and as he reached the door and flung it open he laughed at his freedom. But all he saw was another room, as bright as the corridor and in front of him another man slept. He looked so familiar, the first thing at this place he had seen before.

"Spy?" For a second the world calmed down, but then he collapsed on the floor and dreamed of crying colors and loud blood as it streamed from dark holes made of rotting flesh.

x x x

"Are you not done yet?"

"Soldier, ah ain't gonna fix that thing faster just 'cause ya asking every three minutes. When ahm done, ahm done, alright?" Another hot day, the sun burnt on his back, the wind stirred up the dry sand. His eyes were protected by his goggles, but it still made it more difficult to work quickly. The Engineer tried to repair the engine as fast as possible, but the heat made him sweat, and his shirt stuck to his skin. This, the sand, the Soldier's complaints, didn't help him.

"Gawd, ah feel like bein' cooked to death." He stretched his back for a moment, bending his spine, feeling each vertebra. "Guess ahm getting ' old after all." Grumbling, he pulled his shirt over his head and threw it at the Soldier.

"Don't gimme that look _now_!" Ignoring the man's grin he turned back to his work.

"So, when are you done?" the American asked after a pause while he listened to the sounds of his friend's tools. And his curses. "You said things are going to be done soon."

"Nah, ah said things are going well, like in 'ah know what's wrong and ah gonna fix it!'. That ain't sayin' ah can do it fast." he corrected him. "Puh." He emerged from his work once more, wiping the sweat off his forehead, ready to make another remark about the Soldier's grin as the man looked at his bare upper body, but the rest of the team returned. "Ya know, ah don't wanna make promises ah can't keep. Gimme another two hours, 'kay? That thing's really broken, it's kinda like rebuilding it from the scratch. Ahm sorry, ah'll work as fast as ah can, pardner." he assured him with a smile when he saw the Soldier's worried face, almost as anxious and crestfallen as the Sniper's. He threw a quick glance at the Australian, and suddenly remembered their short conversation after Soldier had attacked the Medic. And his conclusions.

'Guess ah'd have kicked maself in the butt to speed me up if ah were in his place.' With a sigh he bent down again, ignoring the sunburn that developed on his back.

"Okay, mate, what's the idea?" His rifle ready in his hand, his teeth clenched, the shadow of his hat covering his eyes – the Sniper was on the warpath, no doubt about that.

"You heard the Engineer, the car won't be ready within the next two hours. We will split up. Unfortunately some of us are still too weak to fight, that includes you, too, Sniper!" Soldier snapped and ignored the Australian's protest. "That's why you and Scout stay behind. Engineer is busy with the car and as I don't want the three of you to be unprotected I will stay, too. Larry, Moe and Curly Joe here..." he pointed at Demoman, Pyro and Heavy. "You three are our strongest fighters for now. You go ahead and better take care of any obstacles and yourself. What are you waiting for? GET STARTED! We will come right after you once the car is ready. As for Spy..."

"When ya thinkin' I gonna sit here getting' a tan and doin' nothin' ya mistaken, wanker!" Sniper cut him off angrily and jumped up, ready to follow his three teammates, but Scout held him back.

"Whaddya think ya doin', gremlin?" the Australian scoffed, shaking the hand off his arm. The boy stayed calm. There was something in his eyes that confused the Sniper.

"Sorry to break it to ya, but he's right, ya know. With ya arm and leg ya only put them and the doc in danger... I... I made the mistake before... runnin' off like an idiot when I knew I didn't stand a fuckin' chance..." Scout chewed on his lip, he didn't like at all to admit mistakes. But he had been stupid before and now Sniper was about to do something stupid as well. A part of him was angry because he didn't see why his teammate was so anxious now that Medic was missing, but nobody seemed to care when Spy was gone... but then he recalled that Sniper had been asleep when he had decided to search for the Spy on his own – reproaching the Australian for that was unfair, so Scout swallowed further remarks.

"Listen to the boy, son." Soldier added in agreement.

The Sniper studied the Scout's face and finally nodded, albeit reluctantly.

"Guess ya'r right, kid." Without another word he limped over to the jeep and sat down on the passenger seat. From the breast pocket of his vest he took a small cigarette pack, put one stick between his lips and offered the packet to Scout. "Want one?"

The boy shook his head. "Na, stopped when I was... where's Spy?" he interrupted himself, looking around. Sniper and Soldier exchanged a puzzled glance.

"This... is not the first time he disappeared... all of a sudden..." the American hesitated, a feeling in his guts telling him something was strange, but he refused to listen to the screaming voices in his head again.

"Whaddya wanna say, man?" Alerted, Scout was ready to defend the Frenchman. Defend why? He shook off the uneasy feeling that crept into his mind.

"Well, spook used to vanish into thin air all the time before, right? It's nothin' unusual for him... but... _now_? Doubt somebody kidnapped that mongrel... Dunno, something's suspicious..." Sniper answered instead of the Soldier, taking a pull on his cigarette and realized he hadn't lighted it yet. Scout didn't speak at all, for once lost for words. His face face showed his emotions plainly though. Shock, scorn and a struggle between his love and loyality for the man and the sudden doubt when he saw the serious expressions of the other men.

Again, the Engineer interrupted his work, lifted his head and nodded when Soldier looked at him.

"Follow them." he dryly commanded.

"I won't leave the three of you here all alone!" Soldier responded firmly, but the Engineer gave a snort.

"Ahm not an invalid as ya know. The kid's still a bit weak on his legs, but his aiming should be fine enough and Sniper's an experienced fighter and shooter, we can defend ourselves without ya." He narrowed his eyes and smiled grimly. "And ah got a hunch that for some reason we are save here, while them guys could need ya soon. And ya thinkin' the same, it's plainly written on ya face! When ya keep discussin' that ya keep me from finishing ma job here. Move it, NOW!"

Soldier grinned back at him and picked up his rocket launcher.

"Alright, Sir. Take care, you hear me?" And off he went, leaving them behind, running as fast as he could under the weight of his weapon.

The remaining two men stared at the Engineer in amazement.

"Gotta have to respect how ya handled ol' bulldog there." Sniper chuckled in spite of himself, but his worries were still bigger than the small amusement.

"Ya know, son, sometimes ya need a little less talk but givin' them a good kick in the butt to get obstinate, stubborn things movin'" With a growl he kicked against the radiator and was, to their all surprise, rewarded with a short howl of the engine.

The Texan smiled.

"See what ahm talkin' 'bout? NOW we are cookin' with gas!"

x x x x x to be continued x x x x x

_Another chapter filled with... words. ^^  
>This was close, I thought I wouldn't finish in time but here you go :)<em>

_A nice track for this chapter: Watchmen OST – Track 16 – I'll tell you about Rorschach_

_Aren't open questions nice? Well, expect an answer or two next week. Or rather not? We'll see ;)_

_Geez, I really don't like what FFnet does to my documents, the layout is all messed up :/ It looks_

_a bit better on Deviantart, so feel free to choose where you'd like to read ^^  
><em>

_Translations:_

_"Und dann Gnade Euch Gott..." = "And then - Woe betide you!"_

_"Ah! Verdammt noch mal..." = "Ah! Damn it!"_

_"... wartet nur... ich schlitz Euch auf... Stück für Stück... wartet nur..." = "...just wait... I slash you open... inch by inch... just wait..."_

_"Komm raus, komm raus wo immer Du bist!" = "Come out, come out, wherever you are!"_


	26. Chapter 26

_[author's note] same procedure as last time – translations at the bottom [/author's note]_

**Misperception**

Unable to escape the whirl of colors and noises even when he opened the eyes he decided it was still the dream that held him in its claws. Sooner or later it would be over, there was nothing else for him to do than to find its end. As slowly as his body in his dream would allow it he raised to his knees and looked around while darkness filled his head, separating him from the world around him. Too numb and too heavy to move in this world he stood up, eyes and ears hurting, his hands searching for the next wall to support himself, preventing him from falling down once more.

The figure in the middle of this chaotic world, it had to be the key, he was sure of it, if he could only manage to reach it... but knowing the nature of dreams he didn't expect to be able to close the distance. And he was right, with every step he took he seemed to move further away and when he almost fell over something he gasped in surprise. He closed his eyes and opened them again and the nothingness around him lost its vagueness while parts of it took shape of a table and on this table – the figure that should help him find his way back to the real world, out of his dreams and nightmares.

"Ich kenne Dich..." he whispered, and indeed, this was a person he knew from a recent past, but he couldn't find his name in the diffuse maze of his mind, no matter how hard he searched. Shadows of another life emerged from the mass of color and noise, laughing and screaming as they became darker and moved closer, long arms reaching for him, twining around his legs, his body, cold fingers touching his throat. If he didn't hurry they would drag him away and he would be lost.

He seized the sleeping man by his shoulders and shook him, screamed, yelled, still unable to name him.

"Mon dieu... you came?"

In an instant the engulfing shadows retreated, giving him free, and with a shrill yell they disappeared, only leaving the sound of myriads of glass fragments falling to the floor.

"Spy?" The Medic tried to adjust his glasses, but they were gone. He bent a bit closer and stared in the other man's face. "Is zhat you, Spy? Zhey... caught you again?"

The man coughed.

"'elp me, quick..." he urged, his voice hoarse and weak. "Ze ozer, ze fraud..." Coughing more, he tried to speak on, but his voice died away. The Medic watched him.

"You can't be... zhe Spy is vizh zhem. Zhey vill come, von't zhey? Vho are you?" This was too confusing. This man's nose was slightly swollen, part of his right eye blackened, an injury like the Spy but different. Spy was healthy, this man not. Something was wrong but he couldn't understand it, he couldn't think with those colors and all the blood dancing in his mind, yelling at him.

"Zhis is still zhe dream, isn't it? Vhat role do you play? Vhy are you here? Go avay." Impatiently, he searched for his glasses, he turned around but they weren't there. When had he lost them? He crossed the room, walking slowly, careful not to step on too many of the invisible shards lying on the floor of his dream, ignoring the groaning sound behind his back. He stopped when his boot hit something and he looked down. The knife, the very one he had taken with him when he had killed the guard. He picked it up and, carefully, he cleaned the red tainted blade on his once white coat.

The guards... weren't there more of them? Where were they? Shouldn't they be here?

Again, he staggered to the table, his arms hanging limp down his sides, his right hand tightly clenched around the handle of the knife.

He smiled, wide and triumphantly, as he looked at the man.

"You are one of zhem, aren't you? You zhink you can fool me, trick me, vizh your silly games, don't you?" He laughed and the man looked up at him in horror while the Medic raised his hand.

"Non! What is wrong wiz..." he croaked, but the German cut his words off.

"SCHWEIG! Zhis vill prove it – vhen you bleed, zhen you are one of zhem. If you don't, zhen you are nozhing but a vision of my nightmares..." With a crooked smile he set the point of the blade at the man's throat, already piercing through the fabric of his mask. "I am sorry, zhis has to end or I can't return. I have to return, you know. Or he... zhey vill be vorried. Please understand, mein kleiner Albtraum."

The body on the table tried to jerk away from the knife when the first little drop of blood trickled from a wound not much larger than the point of a needle.

"Are you crazy? Snap out it! Réveillez-vous, DOCTEUR!"

The knife fell to the floor. Medic only stared, his head hurting.

"Vhat did you say?" he whispered.

"Docteur, what is wrong wiz you? What 'appened... 'elp me!"

Suddenly, the Medic realized that this man was bound to the table. The face looked worn out and unhealthy, the lips dry and chapped. He was unusually pale.

"Ah!" Something seemed to explode in his head when his mind tried to push back the whirling nightmares. He felt sick, he wished he could lie down, on the cold floor, the cold would calm down the pain, but he refused the temptation to collapse.

"DOCTEUR!" the Spy yelled again, the word followed more coughing. "Mon dieu, moi, I really want to slap you if zat 'elps." the Frenchman sneered nevertheless.

"Spy..." On a sudden impulse he ripped the man's shirt open, grabbed the end of the mask and removed it.

"Bonjour, mon ami. Eager to finally do l'examination I skipped, non?" The Spy grinned weakly.

"Oh mein Gott... was hab ich... vhat have I done..." In disbelief he continued to stare at the man. This was definitely the Spy. But something didn't make sense...

"En tous cas vous me n'avez pas... pardon, you 'ave not freed me yet, mon docteur." Despite his desolate state Spy managed to chuckle.

"I'm sorry... sorry..." Still trying to figure out what was the meaning of this – Why was Spy here? Why did he look so different from earlier? - he tried to untie the rope around the man's right wrist, but it was too sturdy.

"'urry!" Anxiously, Spy struggled, tried to free himself, but as so many times before, it didn't work.

"Vait, vhere's zhat knife..." He was about to reach for the knife, but stopped abruptly.

"It vasn't you all zhe time! Scheiße, verdammte Scheiße!" he suddenly cursed when things fell into place. What was wrong with him, it was so obvious! How could he miss that? The "Spy" had always successfully avoided to be examined, first when Medic had been attacked, later when he assured everyone that he was alright, taking advantage of the more urgent situation with Scout.

"He... God, that's right, he never called me 'docteur'... or Soldier 'Soldat'..." More and more details flooded his mind. And Scout... Wasn't he alone with Scout several times? "He never said 'lapin' eizher..."

"'ow are zey?"

"Fine, I hope... and he looked too healzhy... healzhier zhen zhe _Spy_ Smizh showed us... zhat was you..."

"We can discuss zis all night long, but 'urry and let's get out of 'ere!" Spy snapped, still hoarse, and his voice died away at the end of the sentence, being replaced by a spasm of coughing.

"Ah, ja, yes, sorry." Bewildered by the revelation, and shocked by his own ignorance, he picked up the knife. "I vonder, vho is zhis ozher guy?"

"Well, my dear Medic, that would be me." a deep, amused voice politely explained from the other end of the room.

x x x

He recognized the voice immediately – from that night a little while before, and from the last night, when the stranger threatened to kill the Sniper. This mocking, arrogant tone. As the steps came closer he didn't hesitate anymore, he turned around and dashed towards the man, ready to push the knife into the flesh to the hilt. Killing him, erasing this dangerous man from the surface of this planet, making him pay for bringing back all those loathed memories.

Unimpressed by the sudden attack the man dodged the knife that aimed for his throat and seized the Medic's wrists, digging his fingers into the still fresh wounds, pressing forcefully on the extensor muscle, forcing the German to relax his grip. From the open hand, the knife fell down.

Still being weakened by the drugs and the prior attacks from the guard, Medic realized, the moment he was slammed against the wall and slumped to the ground, that he was physically inferior to this strange man. A simple head to head combat he would eventually lose. Although the guard he had killed before was stronger than him, too, he had been easy to surprise, unable to adjust to the new situation quick enough. That had been the Medic's trump card, but even without recollecting the last few days in his memory he was aware of how much more dangerous this surprisingly skinny looking man was. Not only because of his combat skills, but of his intellect.

Frantically, his eyes searched for the knife, but the second he found it was kicked away by an elegant, black, expensive looking shoe. Medic didn't have the time to wonder why he noticed such an unimportant detail, he didn't have to, it became clear when he lifted his head. For a second he thought Spy stood in front of him – the same size, the same shape, even the same suit, from the shoes to the tie. With the only difference that this _Spy_ didn't hide his face. Even without his glasses he could see the scars and he recognized the pattern at once – during his studies he had seen several schematic charts about plastic surgery and facial reconstructions. Character defining features – jawline, cheekbones, chin... even the nose had been changed.

Either this man had suffered from a severe accident or his whole face had been rebuilt. Maybe to resemble another individual, someone whose face was partly hidden under a mask so that nobody would notice the scars anyway.

Oh yes, they had been fooled, and whatever those who sent him had in mind, it had been thoroughly planned and prepared, months, maybe years ago.

A gun pointed at his head and he sighed.

"Vhy don't you just end it, right here and right now?" He didn't blink or turn away but answered the man's stare.

"Docteur...!" the hoarse – real – Spy groaned and without a warning the man swang his hand at the Frenchman's direction and fired the gun, the bullets hitting the Spy's leg.

"YOU shut up when real men are speaking, frog eater!" the man commanded with a laugh loud enough to drown the pained yell. "Next time it's your ugly head. Well, back to business." He grinned at the Medic's shocked expression and placed himself between the German and the French.

"Vhat do you vant?" Medic hissed, forcing himself to stay where he was. He wouldn't be of much use if he tried to reach the Spy and earned himself a bullet in the back.

"My, are you so eager to add more bloodstains to your pretty collection there?" He nodded at the Medic's hands and clothes with evident delight.

"I've already seen what you've done to poor Charlie. Not bad, my dear, freeing yourself, killing a man twice your strength. Did you have fun? From the wounds you'd inflicted I'd say you rather enjoyed it. Did it bring back nice memories? Say, what do you miss most?" The flicker in his eyes revealed eagerness and excitement. "The scream? The warmth of the blood? The gurgle when they suffocate from their own blood? Or is it the look in their eyes when they realize that they can't escape you? Come on, tell me!"

Aghast at the grotesque smile, the Medic moved closer to the wall, as far out of reach as he could. This man wasn't only smart and skilled, he was also at the brink of madness. They had to get out of here as soon as possible. Had the others noticed that he was gone? Were they already searching for him? How much time had passed anyway? What time of the day was it? He hoped it was already morning; somehow, his friendship with the Sniper, even more, the Sniper's interest in him, calmed him down. When he knew something about the Australian, then that he probably would hurry the others on to find him as soon as possible.

"Vhat are you talking about?" Instead of giving a direct answer, he decided to try and buy some time, prolonging the conversation as much as he could. Either until the others found them or until he saw another opportunity to turn the tables in his favor.

"Tsk, don't play dumb, my friend. This doesn't suit you. I know very well who you used to be, what you used to do. What kind of... monster... you are." Still this smug smile, but it contained something else. Was it really admiration?

"Vho are you?" Amazed by this display of emotions – aloofness, arrogance, contempt but also a strange hint of understanding, like they were kindred souls – Medic was more and more puzzled. _He_ didn't feel like he would like to be lumped together with this kind of man. He _hoped_ they weren't of the same kind.

"Oh, only someone who had had the honor to witness you executing your fascinating work."

As much as he tried, the Medic couldn't find any signs of mockery or teasing in those words. He examined the distorted face carefully, but it was impossible to tell how this man used to look before the alterations of his appearance. The voice, too, was completely unfamiliar.

"Should I... know you?"

Now his face was almost soft with sympathy as the man shook his head.

"Of course I can't expect that you know me. You didn't even see me, I only watched you from afar. But oh, I do know you. The traitor and slayer of your own kind, the _Wunderkind _with the scalpel. So gifted. I admired you so much, your skill, how cleverly you escaped the fate of your people when you solidarized with the regime." He gave a loud, thrilled laugh. "Why, you even consolidated your power by sleeping your way up! With Conti's daughter! Impressive!"

"I zhink you got some zhings vrong zhere." The Medic's eyes had narrowed as the stranger had talked on, feeling sick by the sound of his voice and the way he interpreted the events of his past. But his cold glare was ignored.

"I doubt that, I doubt that, dear _Medic_. Albeit I have to admit I was a bit disappointed when I learned that you betrayed the man who taught you so much. But that's of no importance. Because,_ Doktor_, I know your little secret." His attitude had changed again, now being back to his threatening, arrogant manner. "Where is it?"

"Vhat do you mean?" Puzzled, he wondered what this was about.

"I told you, don't play dumb!" With a yell, he raised his gun, pointing it at the Medic. "Don't think I'm an idiot! I know everything about you, Conti, his men and your little experiments! That little project the Nazis only trusted their most integer, most brilliant minds with! Unfortunately, not the tiniest drop or scrap of paper could be found after Conti's death. And after _your_ escape! Nothing! Like it never existed! I'll ask you one last time: Where is it?"

Suddenly, the Medic understood, and with that, he couldn't help laughing.

"ZHAT'S vhat all zhis is about? Vhy you stalk us, try to kill us? Zhis_ little secret_, as you called it?"

"Idiot! My job has nothing to do with that. I just discovered it by... accident." he snarled impatiently. "Like your little affair with that low-down bastard of a Sniper."

The next second a bullet hit the wall right next to the German's head, small splinters of metal pierced through the skin of his cheek, and he coughed when he inhaled the smell of gunpowder.

"Gross! Just thinking about it makes me wish I could kill you immediately! What happened to you? The slaughterman of the jews? The prodigy of horror? You don't deserve these titles!" The disgust was plainly visible in his face and for a second the Medic prepared to die. He hadn't known that there were people calling him things like _that_. But nothing happened, his captor continued to talk.

"When the Sniper suddenly seemed to recover from his injuries, even attacked me, and finally ran away at a speed that simply wasn't possible for him I knew it! For a moment I hoped I had been wrong. That you still were the one you used to be, refining the formula by testing it on humans. But then I realized my mistake. Wasting something like this because of sentimental feelings. For a man. A man like that! What a disappointment."

"I couldn't care less vhat you zhink about me. Is he still alive?" he asked without thinking, fearing the worst at the malicious tone.

"Ha! Wouldn't you like to know? Well, maybe, maybe not. Maybe I'll tell you. Maybe your Spy will even have a chance to survive and I let you all go. When you finally become reasonable and tell me about the formula."

The sickly sweet smile angered the German. And he was angry with himself, how could he forget about the Spy? Whatever he would do now, he should decide quickly before the French bled to death.

Carefully, he sat up and reached into a small inside pocket of his coat. It was still there, obviously they hadn't searched him when they took him hostage. Slowly, he pulled the little, half filled bottle out.

"Are you talking, by any chance, about zhis?" He suppressed a triumphant smile when he saw the greedy gleam in the man's eyes. "How about a deal zhen?"

"I doubt that you are in the position to bargain, my friend." was the haughty answer. "What should prevent me from just firing a bullet through your head?"

"Vell..." Quickly, he sorted his options. He had to be careful or this chance would be wasted. "I hope you don't zhink I have zhe vritten formula vizh me. Vizhout it, zhis von't be of much use. Leave me alone, answer me some questions and I give you a hint vhere you can find my notes about zhis."

Impatiently he waited for an answer. They didn't have much time. He had to help the Spy. Soon.

"Sounds more interesting than shooting you and just snatching this from your stiff fingers. Go on."

'Aha, obviously, someone here likes games. Let's see if zhis helps me.'

"Vho are you, vho sent you, vhat is zhat stuff you gave me?" First, gaining information. Those would be helpful when he returned to the others. Why didn't they come?

The man cleared his throat and implied a quick bow.

"Thomas Wagner, my pleasure. Wagner will do. Well, as for who sent me... for now, I'm my own boss, so to speak. And my little magic potion, did you like it? Didn't it trigger memories?" He chuckled at the Medic's disgusted face. "Let me put it this way, in my way I'm quite the researcher myself." An air of pride surrounded him when he started to refer to his skills, his researches and genius, how he analyzed the effect of the drug mescaline, using the records from the Nazis, and finally improved it.

It was plain that he was convinced of his skills, of himself and the Medic could guess that it wasn't just empty bragging. His own project should never fall into Wagner's hands, if he succeeded in improving it, the consequences would be disastrous. Maybe this was his chance. Slowly, he shifted his balance, the small bottle hidden in his hand. He observed Wagner closely, and the moment the man rolled his eyes up, searching his memory for a more detailed information, Medic sprang to his feet, darting forward, and tackled him.

But Wagner reacted at once, realizing his mistake. He stumbled backwards, but didn't fall over. Instead, he pushed the Medic away.

"Bastard!" Wagner growled, but Medic smiled broadly, staggering, yet still standing.

"So you vant zhis, ja?" He laughed and threw the bottle as hard as he could to the ground, smashing it to pieces. The slightly viscid liquid spread out on the floor and Medic stepped on the small stain, smearing it even more up. "Zhere you have it, Dummkopf! Too bad zhis vas zhe last bit zhat ever existed! And zhe formula is vell hidden, you vill never find it. Hard luck, Thomas Wagner."

He backed away at the man's shrieks of wrath, ready to fight back as hard as he could, even when he didn't have a chance.

Wagner jumped at him, struck out and hit him in the stomach. The Medic tried to push him away, but lay already on his back, kicking at the man, trying to throw him off when two hands wrapped around his throat. But neither his legs nor hands were strong enough to defend himself.

He gasped for air, screamed, but couldn't make any sounds, only the rattling noise in his throat when he couldn't breathe anymore. When he fainted the grip loosened and the last thing he felt was a sharp pain on his chest and how warm blood seeped through his shirt.

x x x

_This is... shorter than usual ^^ But this was perfect timing for a cliffhanger, raising the suspense and... ah, wtf, who am I kidding... it was a good point, yes, but I was also tired as hell and the next part will probably be longer than 1-2 pages, so I thought I might as well stop for today ^^_

_Expect more next week :)_

_Translations as they appear:_

_"Ich kenne Dich..." = "I know you..."_

_"Schweig!" = "Silence!"_

_"Mein kleiner Albtraum" = "my little nightmare"_

_"Réveillez-vous.." = "Wake up.."_

_"Oh mein Gott... was hab ich..." = "Oh my god... what have I..."_

_"Scheiße, verdammte Scheiße!" = "Shit, goddamned shit!"_

_"Dummkopf"= "Idiot."_


	27. Chapter 27

**Snowbowl 27 – Reunion I**

Changes were approaching. After days of more or less nothing but reacting to the circumstances now was the time to strike again – to attack.  
>The enemy had always been one step ahead for the last days, playing with them. Now it was about time to turn the tables. As a team within a team those three men had made their decision – they had provided the stranger with too many targets.<br>His pattern had been so obvious from the very beginning, yet everyone had been helpless, busy to fix what had been broken or destroyed – or who had been injured. Too busy to take actions.  
>Alone they were, following the rail tracks, their only lead through the hostile environment, surrounded by the perpetual landscape of the desert, an area they used to know from their fighting days in Dustbowl – the old Dustbowl. It was dust indeed, and sand, that slowed them down almost as much as the increasing temperatures.<br>Unlike their old battlefield this piece of land missed shade-giving caverns and valleys, and soon the largest of them, Heavy, was bathed in sweat and covered with the sand their own steps whirled up.  
>Demoman, a man with a character as difficultly to perturb as the desert or a mountain, didn't show any signs of exhaustion or suffering from the heat, only a few sweat drops glistered on his dark forehead. His mood was unaffectedly cheerful, despite the state of affairs. Of course he hadn't forgotten about the missing Medic.<br>Or the dangers that might await them.  
>But although many habits disappeared with his sobriety, although his teammates had acknowledged his character's improvements and he had often surprised them with his skills that they – and he himself – had forgotten about in the past lately, there was one thing that would remain unchanged forever – his optimistic attitude. As soon as he held one of his grenades or stickies in his hands, or smelt the scent of gunpowder, nothing could go wrong in his eyes – or rather his eye.<p>

The biggest mystery among them all, the Pyro, didn't think of optimism or pessimism once they started to get ready for a battle. Failure, victory. He didn't care, not until after a fight. Often enough he was still busy hunting their targets, burning them to death or destroying whatever was left of a building when the battle had already been decided. To give it all, to see the flames burning, to watch a fire spreading and engulfing, destroying everything – that alone mattered. That was the reason he enjoyed his job. And life. The battle in itself. The outcome, or the reason at all, didn't matter anymore from the moment he activated his faithful flamethrower.  
>Harmless and withdrawn, sometimes cheerfully chattering, sometimes shy and silent, yet a beast whenever a fight began. A soul as loyal as deadly.<br>Not too different from the Heavy, the soft-spoken giant who could roar like a lion and tended to forget about the wisdom of his years whenever a wrong button was pushed. Unfortunately, nobody had known those buttons, and as Heavy didn't distinguish between friend and foe once his wrath was provoked, everyone kept always in mind to be careful around him, to watch his mood closely and to listen to him when he spoke. Nobody wished to enrage him, he was too valuable as a friend and teammate. And too dangerous when angry. Fortunately the only thing that apparently aggravated him at this moment was the sun and even the dark, unpredictable part of his personality was aware that all of his power was no match to a burning star in the sky. For now, this part lurked, ignored, deep in the shadows of the Heavy's mind, ready to break out at the next, more fruitful, opportunity.

Dangerous and deadly, those were the traits that united them and made them strong, despite different attitudes and different backgrounds that were buried somewhere in a dark past. Determination and bloodlust helped them to get their revenge on life and the world.

They were worried, they wished to get the team together again as soon as possible, and certainly hoped for their Medic to return in safety. But whatever lay in front of them, miles ahead along the rail tracks, it was no reason for them to deny themselves the fun and enjoyment of killing, if the opportunity struck.

They didn't keep track of the time they were walking through the sand, their weapons always ready to strike. But no soul was seen, the only noises were made by their steps, their voices and the omnipresent wind.

Experience had taught them not to succumb to the temptation of a tunnel vision, with only the next fight in their mind. Otherwise they would have missed a thing that obviously was out of place.  
>After a while of walking, behind a formation of rocks and boulders large enough for half of the team to hide behind, car tires had left their traces in the sand.<p>

"Right, this is more than one set of tires, see, laddies?" Demoman pointed out, waving his hand vaguely over the sand. "There is anither, older pair, these there are older me thinks."  
>Pyro kneeled down, carefully removing a thin layer of sand from the first parallel running tracks. Then he nodded.<br>"A'm'st 'idden by the sa'd, t'anks t' the 'ind. Pr'bably s'veral 'ours ol'."

"Sure and those others are pretty recent. Mahbee one hour?"  
>Heavy and Pyro shrugged.<br>"Maybe." the Russian repeated. "Far enough from camp this is, sounds of engine we not heard. First car with doctor gone. But second?"  
>Pyro was about to utter his guess, but kept it to himself after all. Thinking about the last days he suspected who might have used the second car. Too bad they couldn't contact the men who stayed behind. A short call would have clarified his suspicions.<p>

One thing was for sure – both cars, whoever had driven them – followed the same route.

"Aye, whaddye think wee shall do? Go on or go back?" the Demoman wondered. "Mahbee them boys behind need us, or... eh, Pyro, lad, what is eet? Ye look like ye head's 'bout ta explode."  
>And indeed, although the man's face was, as always, hidden under the rubber mask, his whole body language revealed his tenseness.<br>"Better speak little Pyro should. Think of talk tonight." Heavy encouraged him. "What is on mind?"

The Pyro sighed. But they were right. As much as he didn't want to become paranoid, like Soldier before, he also knew he was risking their all's safety and awareness when he didn't share his thoughts.  
>"Y'u 'now... I t'ink th're is s'meth'ng 'rong wit' Spy..."<p>

The other two men looked at each other.  
>"Shiver me... Pyro, ye not sayin' ye doubtin' a teammate? Why? Sure he is behavin' strange, but he is Spy, always been an odd craiter..."<p>

"I 'now!" Pyro interrupted him. "D'n't I 'now. 'e sta'ked me of'en 'nough. C'rious s'n o' a 'itch. B't 'e is diff'rent..." He found it hard to make his point clear without giving too much detail of what he knew about the way Spy recently had treated their Scout. First of all he didn't want to betray the boy, after he more or less had confided in him. Furthermore, this was a delicate matter. He could hardly tell the others frankly that he suspected Spy of raping a teammate, and counting all the signs he had seen. Or maybe he should...

"C'mere, lad, ye know more then ye let on. That's some gash accusation, ye ain't sayin' something like this without reason." Demo stated. "Nay, ye nivver would, I know ye."

"Right Demoman is." Heavy grunted, wiping the sweat off his forehead before it could run into his eyes. "Knowledge our strength is. Secret dangerous. Of what could happen if not knowing about me you did. Remember? If not talked we had. Crushed you I would have. What you know?"

"'kay 'kay, y'u 're r'ght." Pyro finally gave in. "I sa' 'ow 'e treat'd S'cout d'ffer'nt. L'ter'lly o'ernigh'. An' I s'w 'e be'aved str'nge w'en I sa'd I fo'nd the pend'nt in the sand." This was half of the truth and a bit of a lie. After all, it didn't make a big difference if they knew what Spy had exactly done to their youngest teammember and although he hadn't taken any notice of Spy when Heavy had almost lost his temper, he was sure that the Frenchman was behind this. Now that he thought about it - he remembered how Spy had pushed him aside a few times, maybe that was how the pendant was attached to him. There certainly were enough suspicious moments that justified a little white lie.

His comrades considered the news for a second, comparing them to their own memories of the last days, as they recalled them.  
>"Right, me don't like distrusting anyone of the team." was the Demoman's conclusion. "But mahbee ye are right. Me hopes not, but on the other hand, this could be an answer."<p>

"Da. Explain second car it does. When Spy behind this is." With a grim expression he started to follow the rail tracks again. "Go. Medic to find we have. And answers. Eyes keep open we must."

"Aye, lad." Demo and Pyro hurriedly joined Heavy who had increased their walking speed from before.

"WAIT MAGGOTS!" a heavily panting but nevertheless loud voice behind them bellowed. They stood still at once and turned around. Still half a mile away they saw the Soldier running, covered in sweat. The merciless sun and the weight of his weapon were making it hard to follow them at a high speed, but there he was, finally catching up with them. The American had never been a fast runner, but they couldn't help admiring his endurance. And obviously his vocal chords had their own cardiovascular system – they were powerful as ever. They waited a few minutes until Soldier had caught up with the little group.

"Hech! Whaddye doin' here, laddie? Me thought ye stayed with them other boys?"

"Somebody... has... to keep... an eye... on you... boys..." the man gasped, recovering his breath quickly.  
>"Do not even think of saying it, monocular son of a maggot!" he huffed, glaring at the grinning Demoman. "In this war there is no time for silly jokes. I demand a full report of what you know. NOW!"<p>

x x x x

For a second he had closed his eyes, just resting them, hoping this would prevent him from fainting again. Breathing was still hard, but with a reassuring reliability his lungs filled with air unhindered.  
>Yet he still felt a heavy weight on his chest, a burning pain and once he opened his eyes after this short moment of recovering his senses the first thing he saw was Wagner's face, undisturbed and amused.<br>"My, you are back with us, my dear Medic? I have good news for you." The man lifted his hand, holding his knife right over the German's face. The edge was covered with blood, and a drop of the dark red liquid fell on the Medic's cheek.  
>"As the outcome of our little game is already decided, with me as the winner of course, I can afford to be generous. For now, I will spare your sorry life." He patted the man's chest like he would pat the head of a child or a dog. "I'm sure you and your <em>petit ami<em> over there will not fail to amuse me when you try to escape."  
>"Verdammtes... Arschloch..." The Medic's own voice still struggled against the pain in his throat and he hoped that the choking from before hadn't done any severe damage.<p>

"My, how ungrateful, one would think a man like you..."  
>A loud bang, followed by shouts and gunfire, interrupted Wagner, who, in a resigned way, folded his knife and put it away into one of his suit's pockets.<br>"I'm sorry, my friend. But you know, if you want something to be done well, you better take care of it yourself. That would be myself in this case. Oh my, look at you." Shaking his head with a reproachful expression he started to button the Medic's coat. "How pathetic, at least a man of your rank should dress properly. You really set a poor example to your little playmates. A real gentleman always maintains his style and composure."  
>"Zhank you for your concern." the German hissed and seized the man's wrist. "But I zhink I'm better off vizhout your help."<p>

Wagner chuckled.  
>"If you sink zo, old vrient, sen I vill leaf sis to yu." he mockingly replied and, laughing at the man's angry glare, he stood up and walked towards the door. Just before he left he turned around a last time.<br>"You better finish your little rest soon and motivate your lazy friend over there. Because," with a wicked grin he nodded at the corridor, "as I'm a good host, I won't let you stay behind without company. He should be here in a few minutes, so better hurry. Goodbye."

As soon as they were alone Medic sat up, feeling for his throat. Painful and there would be more bruises, but not worse than the last time.  
>"A few times more and I vill get used to zhis." he grumbled and staggered back to his feet, fighting for his balance when his head couldn't adjust quick enough to the sudden change of his position. He breathed in slowly, counting to three and finally the world stopped swaying around him.<br>Quickly he searched the floor with his eyes, relieved when he spotted the knife he had brought with him earlier. If this Wagner had forgotten about it or simply didn't care didn't matter. Careful not to stumble and fall over he picked it up and turned to the Spy, looking at the man's leg, and frowned.  
>Blood was dripping from the edge of the table. As far as he could judge from the first glance the bullet still stuck in the flesh of the upper leg and the Medic hoped that the bone wasn't damaged.<br>"Spy!" His attention turned to the man's head. The Frenchman was pale and neither awake nor fully unconscious. Probably due to his overall bad condition.  
>"Spy! Vake up! Na los!" He slapped him not too gently, but with the effect he had wished for. Slowly, the Spy opened his eyes and groaned.<br>"Mon dieu! Never I will get a rest! What 'appened zis time?"  
>"Vell, first of all, you rested almost a veek." the Medic stated grimly, removing the belt from his pants, and began to wrap it around the bleeding leg.<br>"Second – zhis man, Wagner, he shot you. Zhat happened. Now let me vork in peace."

"'e is dangerous... ah! Be gentle, mon ami, s'il vous plait." Spy flinched when the pressure on his upper leg felt unbearable.  
>"Stop complaining, zhis is necessary, if I don't secure zhe artery you vill bleed to deazh. Zhere, done." He took the knife and started to cut the rope that bound the Spy.<br>"Better grit your teezh as zhey say, I don't have time to vrite a report of your deazh. Can you stand up?" He supported the man as he sat up.  
>"Uh... my 'ead..." Spy covered his eyes with his hand, looking like he was about to pass out.<br>"Migraine?"  
>"Oui."<br>"Did you lie zhere all zhe time?" the Medic inquired, his fore- and middle finger at Spy's left wrist, feeling for the pulse. "Zhe blood pressure is a bit low, but it vill recover vhen you valk a bit."

"Most of ze time, dormer... sleeping... most of ze time. I zink 'e drugged moi..."

"I'm not surprised. Come." He put the man's arm around his shoulder and half carried, half dragged him along. "Drugs and underhand deceiving seem to be zhe favorite zhings of him."

"Ha. Drugs and deceiving." Spy gave a small laugh while he tried to walk as much by himself as possible, but as his leg didn't support his body weight he had to rely on the Medic's strength. "'e is like ze illegitimate fils, I mean, son of us, non?"  
>"Pah. He is too clever to be related to a careless Dummkopf like you." the German sneered, but grinned in spite of himself.<br>"Tu as rasion. 'e is too charming to be related to you, mon docteur, but on ze ozer hand, even a rock is. Ah, wait un moment!" Limping around, he reached for the piece of cloth still lying on the table. Quickly, he pulled his mask over his face and tugged it into his collar. Finally, he adjusted his tie and jacket as well as he could.  
>"I'm glad to see you still got zhe priorities right." the German remarked sarcastically while he watched the Spy.<br>"As 'e said, a gentleman always maintains his style and composure."  
>Medic rose an eyebrow at this imitation of Wagner's words and voice.<br>"I zhought you vere passed out?"  
>"Not all ze..." but he stopped.<br>Just when he had somewhat straightened his disheveled suit, a shadow darkened the door.

"Merde." Spy pulled a grimace, sizing up the tall, broad figure who entered the room. The Medic had let go of him and the French would have fallen to the floor if he hadn't leaned against the table in time.  
>"Vell, Spy, seems like ve have to continue our friendly chatter after ve have taken care of zhis matter."<p>

Ignoring his own weakened condition, the pain on his chest and hands and the still persisting difficulties he had while breathing, the German strengthened his grip around the hilt of the knife, ready to strike.  
>The new arrival bore many similarities with the one he had taken out before. The same built, the same clothes, even the same haircut and patterns of movement, resembling more a robot than a human. Or a well trained and drilled fighting machine. Before he could continue his observations the man attacked, a fist aiming at his face. Somehow, the Medic managed to dodge the hit, but he stumbled over his own feet, falling down to the ground.<br>Just in time, before a giant foot stomped on his face, he rolled to the side, desperately trying to get up and run away from his attacker, but the man had grabbed him by the collar of his coat and pulled him back.  
>'No. Not again!'<br>Two big hands wrapped around his neck and breathing became difficult again. Suddenly, anger filled his mind. He was fed up, sick of it, being less of a fighter than their teenage teammate, more unconscious than awake lately. The easy victim, so easy to strangle to death, at the mercy of other people's hands. For a second he tried to pull the hands away from his throat but the grip was too tight, when he finally remembered the knife he still held. Blindly stabbing backwards he felt how the blade sank into the soft flesh of the man's unprotected side.

A loud cry of pain echoed in his ear and his vision became blurry, despite the attack the man didn't release him. But he hadn't let go of his weapon as well, although the strange angle strained the muscles of his wrist. He pressed the blade deeper and abruptly moved it upwards, cutting the skin open, severing muscles.  
>Finally breathing was easier. He broke away from the man behind him, taking the knife with him, the blade cutting through more inches of flesh, covering the hilt and his hand with blood and he had to pay attention not to let it slip out of his grip.<br>The Medic staggered forward and turned around, facing his enemy and seeing the damage he had inflicted to the massive body.  
>The man's right side was a long, bleeding wound, blood rushed down his hips and legs, covering the floor with a fast growing, crimson puddle.<br>But this guy, although he pressed one hand against the opening in his flesh, didn't retreat. The face almost unimpressed the giant moved forward, his free hand reaching for the gun on his belt. Medic readied his weapon, determined not to give his life up that easily.  
>Just before the stranger could aim at the Medic's head, Spy suddenly tackled the man from the side. Surprised by the unexpected attack the man swung his arm around and forcefully hit the Spy against his chest. With a groan the French tumbled backwards.<br>But before the giant could focus on either of them Medic leaped forward, slitting across the man's throat. This finally stopped him and with a gargling sound he sunk on his knees, his head tilted backwards, the freshly cut wound presented like a wide, red smile.  
>"Stirb! Stirb elender Scheißkerl!" The German suddenly laughed bitterly and, unable to stop himself, raised his hand again, inflicting another deep gash across the man's stomach before he senselessly stabbed the broad chest. Blood covered his hands and soon his arms, the front of his coat more red than white. More drops of blood were splattered on his face and ran down his cheeks and throat.<br>"Ich hab die Schnauze voll von Euch!" he yelled, but froze in his movement when he felt how a hand on his shoulder gently pulled him away from his victim.

"Docteur, 'e is dead." Spy spoke with a soft voice. "Come to your senses, s'il vous plait."

The excitement and anger died away while adrenaline still rushed through the Medic's veins, and he started to tremble as he looked at his hands. Shocked he jumped up, almost knocking the Spy over.  
>"Gott..."<p>

"Non, do not worry about zis, mon ami. All of us are a bit insane, n'est-ce pas? Zis is what makes us so good. Let's go, please lend me a 'and." Like before, the Spy put his arm around the Medic's shoulder and, albeit slowly but unhindered, they left the room and searched for the exit of their prison and this madness.

x x x x

The Heavy's laughter was the only thing louder than the noise of his gun as he spun around, mowing down another row of guards. They collapsed, fell down and squirmed on the ground before they were either finished off by the Demoman's explosives or cremated by the Pyro's flamethrower.

From somewhere to the right another one of the Soldier's rockets blasted a hole into the defensive formation of more guards.  
>The scent of earth and blood filled the air, mixed with the smell of burnt flesh.<p>

From afar they had seen them waiting. At least two dozen of men stood in front of a large building – the rest of the train as they could see once they were closer – and were ready to defend it with their life. They stood side by side, like a wall made of humans, and moved steadily like robots made of blood and bones, ready to fulfill their duty, not yielding back when things looked bleak.  
>At first more men stormed out of the train, replacing the fallen, but they joined their comrades soon in death.<br>Most of them were armed, but with standard guns, no match to a rocket launcher or Natasha, the Heavy's fast firing mini-gun.  
>A few, obviously differently trained managed to run past the gunfire and tried to fight the four mercenaries down in a close combat fight, but fire soon put an end to those attempts. Attentively the Pyro watched his teammates backs.<br>Although the result of the battle was soon clear the guards didn't give up and prolonged the fight as long as possible, ignoring wounds or shot off limbs. Only death seemed to stop them.

"I t'ink th's is the 'ast one." Pyro shouted over his shoulder as the screeching voice of the heap of burned flesh finally subsided.

"Double-check, private! We take no risk and no prisoners!" the Soldier barked back over a pile of corpses, reloading his weapon. "You two, help Pyro!"  
>Together, they climbed over dead bodies, kicked them and waited for any kind of reaction and more than a few times more bullets were fired, just to make sure.<p>

Preoccupied with their task none of them noticed when the door to the train opened once more and two men stepped outside.  
>Both shielded their eyes, the sudden brightness hurting their already aching heads.<br>At the sound of a man clearing his throat in a most familiar way the four men abruptly turned around, gaping at their two teammates in bewilderment.

"W'at the..." Pyro was the first to speak, and the taller man laughed.

"Gentlemen, _I_ am your Spy"

x x x x to be continued x x x x

_Have another chapter ^^_

_And I guess by now I should start making a map of the surroundings or I'll get faster lost than the guys xD_

_Translations as they appear:_

_"Verdammtes Arschloch" - "Fucking asshole"_

_"Na los!" - "Come on!"_

_"Dummkopf" - "Idiot"_

_"Tu as raison" - "You are right."_

_"Stirb! Stirb elender Scheißkerl!" = "Die! Die miserable son of a bitch!"_

_"Ich hab die Schnauze voll von Euch!" - "I'm sick of all of you!"  
><em>


	28. Chapter 28

**Snowbowl 28 – Reunion II**

"I see." the Soldier muttered thoughtfully and handed the Medic a bottle still half filled with water.

The sun had wandered past its zenith a little while ago and sweat ran down their faces and backs as they sat in the warm sand, unprotected from the blistering heat.

Soldier licked his lips, unaware of doing so, as he watched a thin stream of water flowing down, glittering, refreshing and delicious, before it mingled with the already coagulating blood that covered the Spy's shot leg. With an almost clean piece of cloth Pyro carefully removed the spoiled liquid, lost forever, while the Medic thoroughly stitched the torn flesh of the thin limb up. A blood covered bullet lay on the dirty ground a few inches next to them, already forgotten.

The wasteland stretched wide around them, no change of scenery showed at the horizon, whatever direction their heads might turn. However, the little space they occupied, sitting in a small circle, appeared cramped. The time they had been found only a few days ago, in the middle of a hostile, white and frozen nowhere none of them had realized how long the train actually was, too glad they had been to escape the cold. And even despite all the suspicion that had become their second nature during the events of their life and work they hadn't been immune to the hope of returning home quickly.

For the last days their lives revolved around only two parts of the train and the close by parts of the desert, so the real dimension of the whole transportation had a gigantic impact on them.

A massive colossus of steel.

An enclosed area contradicting the seemingly endless wilderness. A new challenge ahead, stirring more hopes, nothing that would scare them – yet their instincts advised them to stay alerted. Just in case.

Demoman, Heavy and Soldier followed the movements of Medic's and Pyro's hands while they tended to the injured leg, sometimes lifting their gaze and staring at the Spy's face in amazement. With the mask not one of them could tell if there were differences to the face they had looked at since the day after their arrival. But they obviously saw another man lying in front of them, while the other was strong and healthy this one looked tired with his sunken cheeks and the bloodshot eyes, both rimmed by dark shadows. And the even more unpleasant sign of identity the doppelganger probably wouldn't copy – a still blood-leaking gash in the man's leg, now clearly exposed after the Medic had cut off the stained trouser leg.

What they could see of his face was pale and he breathed deep and slow, fighting against the pain in his head and body.

As usual everyone of them carried a small package of first-aid supplies, just enough to treat small wounds. But the bullet had to be removed and the wound closed so Medic performed the surgery in spite of the circumstances, relying on the knife he had used to kill two men only a short while before, a cotton thread taken from the frayed sleeve of the Spy's own pants served as a substitute for a sterile, medical suture. The Medic would have to open the wound all over again once he got hold of his equipment if he wished to avoid dealing with a festering gash – or even amputating - in a day or two.

He owed it to Pyro's care and curiosity in medicine that the young Peruvian had even brought a small flask of iodine tincture, just enough to disinfect the injury. The biting smell mixed with the stench of drying blood, the corpses of the guards still lay were they had fallen, staining the sand around them dark red first, then, due to the heat, brown. The bodies would soon begin to rot, they couldn't put the question what to do with them on hold for long. But for now they paid no heed to them, there were more important issues to reason out; and between the Spy's French curses and pained groans they discussed the sudden turn of events – the fact that not only one teammember had gone missing but two was slowly sinking in.

"We have been fooled the whole time." Soldier had repeated the same sentence over and over again, sometimes angry, sometimes bewildered while Heavy and Demoman tried to recollect the Spy's, the iother/i Spy's behavior. Pyro and Medic didn't add to the conversation, both focused on their work at hand, their minds busy with their own worries, but neither of them dared to talk or ask questions.

Medic concluded from the words his teammates didn't mention that the rest of them had probably been alright when they had begun the search for him, otherwise he would have heard about it by now.

Pyro, however, scolded himself. He had known that something was strange, yet he had respected the Scout's wish not to give away what he knew about Spy's actions. Now he felt foolish and responsible. Maybe some things wouldn't have happened if he had betrayed the boy's confidence. Even when he, Demo and Heavy had worked out their plan and shared part of their weaknesses he had kept silent, the first time uttering his doubts on their search.

"Vhat are zhe plans for zhe ozhers? Vill zhey follow or do ve return to zhem once ve are done here?" the German suddenly interrupted the discussion and Pyro's silent argument with himself.

"Engineer trouble with little car has." Heavy explained. "When done to us they drive."

"Aye, our special friend made a fine guddle outta the thing, Engie's gonna have ta give it all he got ta repair it." Demoman added. "But me bets it doesn't take them lads long, nivver fash. Anyway," he changed the subject. "We know that bloody bastard's clever, he's killed Smith, enjoys ta play with us like a wanchancy cat. But why? Medic, Spy. Didn't he tell ye anything?"

When the Medic shook his head, Spy passed a puzzled look at him and was about to say what he had overheard of Medic's and Wagner's conversation, but decided against it for now. For some reason the Medic didn't want to mention that there had been some kind of earlier connection between them. This was interesting, he would try to find out more about it as soon as he had a chance to talk with him alone.

"I have told you everyzhing I know. At least ve have a name now, Thomas Wagner." he recapped once more. "He vorked for Smizh and got rid of him, and vhoever is behind zhis vhole scheme – Wagner doesn't care. It is a game for him. Oh, I'm sorry, did zhat hurt?" he interrupted himself when Spy cursed him.

"Of course it does, you imbecile!" the French snapped. "I 'ope for you zat zis will work, you look a bit too amused."

Medic ignored the Spy's words and finished applying the rest of the iodine to the fresh seam while the others chuckled. Usually, Spy and Medic got along quite well, friendly banter and more or less disguised digs entertained them both, only when it came to medical treatment Spy was the second worst patient of them all, right after Medic himself.

"I wish ze Demoman would still drink, zen I could ask 'im to share." Spy continued his complaints and the Scotsman laughed.

"Aye, me is sorry, lad, when ye haven't helped them ta hide scrumpy from me in Dustbowl I might have myself a bottle here. But don't count on me sharing with ye!"

"Vizh your condition you vould be drunk vizhin seconds, Herr Spy." Medic stated dryly. "Even if zhere vere any alcohol at hand I vould have forbidden it."

"Egoistic traîtres, all of you." Spy grumbled, but thankfully accepted the water bottle Pyro offered him. "Merci, mon ami, all but you." He didn't remember the last time he got something to eat, only once or twice he was given food during his captivity – now that he knew that Smith was dead he assumed caring for him stopped with that – and he hadn't drank anything for a little while, too. By now he had emptied the small water supply the others had brought with them, except the bottle Medic had used to clean the wound.

"Well, what else did I miss?" he finally inquired, after giving the empty bottle back.

"Wait a second, before we fill you in let's decide what to do now." Soldier cut him short and continued right away. "I suggest Heavy, Demo and my humble self explore the enemy's territory and claim it. Pyro, you wait with Medic and Spy for our return or the others, whoever arrives first. Later," His eyes wandered over the dead bodies who lay between them and the train."Later we have to get rid of those before they decompose and smell. Let's go, maggots! Stay alert, the hippie can be everywhere, and we don't know if there are more of those sun worshipers inside!"

"Too b'd we d'n't 'ave any b'ndages." Pyro sighed and watched the others leaving before he turned to the Medic. "W'at sho'ld we do wit' t'e 'eg?"

"Pyro, mon ami, 'ow about removing ze mask and speaking properly wiz us." Spy teased him. The small man had removed his gloves without hesitating once he and Medic had started tending to the leg, despite the presence of the others. The French was curious as ever about the mysterious teammate and he was really relieved to be back with them. For a while he was sure he would either starve or be killed before they even missed him. Even the Pyro's harsh reply felt like coming home.

"Covering it vizh dirty clozhes defeats zhe purpose." Medic decided. "Zhe sun vill dry zhe vound quickly and he doesn't lose any more blood, he vill be fine."

"Good to know, ozerwise moi would 'ave been vorried, zanks for explaining zat to me, too." He chuckled when both men looked at him.

"I'm sorry, Spy. Vell, as ve vait, ve might as vell tell you vhat happened, nicht wahr, Pyro?"

The smaller man nodded.

"Very good, I 'ave a few questions of my own, you know."

But before he could ask or the others talk a loud cheer caught their attention.

Only a short distance away they saw a jeep as it was quickly coming closer.

x x x x

"Ya sure ya okay, mate?"

"For zhe hundertsten time, zhis is not my blood and I never felt better, now give me zhat bag already!" the Medic growled,snatched his equipment from the Sniper's hand and searched for some of his supplies.

"Wunderbar. Vell, not for you, Spy. I vill replace the cotton thread vizh zhe right one now. Do you vant some local anesthesia?"

The French snorted and shook his head. "Moi, I am not a wimp, mon dear docteur. Go a'ead. And while you are at it, what is wrong wiz ze lapin?"

"Sniper, make yourself useful and give me a hand. Zhe Scout? I guess zhis is a long story Pyro should explain." Medic shrugged and started to open the freshly sewn wound again.

Just a few moments ago the car had arrived and things happened fast.

Sniper jumped from his seat at once and limped over to them before the Scout had stopped the vehicle. Only for a second Medic could wonder how on earth they had convinced the Engineer to let the boy drive, then he had to deal with the Australian. Actually it surprised him how glad he was to see that the man was still alive, after all, he had been sure of that since they had met Soldier and the others. But before he could snap at him and tell him to shut up Scout joined them, looking as worried as the Sniper. However, Pyro abruptly stood up and seized the Scout's arm, pushing him away from the French.

Spy's confusion was plain to see, even in his half-hidden face, neither able to place the intimate look in Scout's eyes when he approached him nor Pyro's sudden reaction. And something else was strange with the boy, but he couldn't tell. A small but new mystery. But he would bet on it, it had something to do with Medic's and the Engineer's worried faces as they watched how Pyro dragged the protesting youth along, mumbling something about an order from the Soldier.

Finally, after the two young men had climbed over several of the corpses and stood right in front of the door, Pyro turned around.

"I 'ill t'ke 'im alo'g to t'e othe's, as So'dier sa'd, _okay_?"

And a few seconds later the two had disappeared inside the compartment.

Just when Spy was about to inquire about this odd behavior the interactions between Medic and Sniper caught his curiosity. Before he was caught he had noticed the tension whenever those two talked, but it was a bit different now. Oh yes, a lot had happened during his absence.

Even now, while Medic, this time assisted by the Australian, sewed the wound for a second time, Spy preferred just to watch and listen.

Meanwhile, the Engineer had hauled one of his toolboxes from the jeep's truck bed and rebuilt his sentry only a few steps away from them. From the way the Texan moved his shoulder Spy assumed that the Engineer as well suffered from a recent injury. Obviously, his doppelganger had been quite busy.

"Anyway, I'm bloody glad to see ya save."

'Magnifique. Seems like my fate doesn't have a big impact on you, bushman.' Spy thought, amused. Suddenly, it was quite obvious to him what was the matter with those two, at least with the Australian. The Medic was more the grumpy, easily to annoy self he had been recently.

"Ja ja, I'm save, I'm fine, ve could escape. _Not_ zhanks to you. Anyvay, please vipe avay zhe blood over zhere, make sure no sand sticks to zhe skin." he hurried to command him, but Sniper didn't let the remark slide.

"I hope ya know I'd been there if it had been possible." His voice sounded half amused, half hurt and it took Spy some effort not to chuckle. Their Sniper usually had a rather confident, easy-going personality, a man always in charge of the situation, a man of the wilderness. Yet, his demeanor reminded Spy more of the one of a puppy, eager for the attention of his master. It was too funny. And too bad – sooner or later he would have to decide if he rather wanted to help the Sniper's case or to tease the hell out of the Medic.

"I vas just kidding, sorry, I didn't know vhat I said." Medic smiled wryly and wrapped a new, snow-white bandage around the Spy's leg. "Zhere. Done. How do you feel, Spy?"

"Quite well, monsieur, zank you. Ugh." He tried to stand up, but regretted this at once. Sure, the leg didn't support his weight, he hadn't expected that anyway – he had risen too quickly and felt like he was about to black out.

"Slow, idiot. You have lost lots of blood, your vhole blood pressure is too low. Sniper, help me, please, let's drag him over zhere." Together they helped the Frenchman reach the train where he sat down again, this time hidden from the sun by the shadows.

They took the opportunity and explained the Spy what had happened during his absence. About the accidents and attacks, how they found the dead Smith, how the Scout almost drowned when he thought he would save the Frenchman's life when all he did was clinging to Smith's corpse. Spy wondered if that had something to do with the Scout's reaction. A valid explanation, yet he felt sure there was more to it.

After a while the Engineer joined them and brought, to the Spy's delight, some food. As their story was finished, Spy and Medic repeated their part, about the capture and how they escaped, or rather – how Wagner had let them go.

"That reminds me, son. How did he get ya in the first place?" Engineer wondered. "Ya were with us in the room, weren't ya?"

The Medic took a long draft from his water before he answered.

"He suddenly vas zhere and said he vould kill all of you vhen I didn't go vizh him. He vas careful and all of you vere asleep. I didn't vant to risk anybody's life." he lied.

"Instead ya risked ya own bloody life, ya wanker." Sniper snorted disapprovingly.

"Easy there, ain't no use startin' like this. Did Soldier say anythin' 'bout what he wants ta do with those boys there?" Engineer pointed at the dead bodies in front of them. Under the influence of the heat their skins had already taken a strange color, indicating at the rapid process of decay.

They shook their heads and talked about the possibilities for a while when Pyro returned, alone.

"Is zhe Scout vizh zhe ozhers? Good. Care to tell us vhat zhat vas about?"

"Lat'r. Engi, S'ldier sa'd we w'll burn t'e bo'ies, a'ter we move th'm a'ay usin' the c'rs. Can you 'elp me t' un'oad t'em?"

"Sure, no problem there. Is the train all clear?"

Pyro laughed.

"'aven't see' ha'f o' it! It's f'ck'ng h'ge!" Then he was serious again. "We f'nd two slaug'ter'd men. W'o of you d'd t'at? Me'ic?"

Blushing, the German nodded. He had more or less forgotten about them, already trying to repress the memory of his outbursts.

"I saw 'im." Spy already replied. "At least le deuxième... sorry, ze second one. 'e gut 'im beautifully, I was almost proud of 'im. But 'e was a bit too messy wiz ze blood to be a good Spy."

"Zhat's not funny at all, Spy." Medic chid indignantly.

"Bloody right! Two of those things there?" the Australian looked at the pile of dead men. "Are ya crazy?"

"Yes, I am and I vere dead now if I veren't." Angrily, he snapped back at the Sniper.

"No arguing, sons." the Engineer ordered and the Sniper refrained from his reply. "Are ya sure ya alright, doc? Ya usually not a close combat fighter, ya know?" Doubtfully, he mustered the German. So this was the explanation for the blood on the man's clothes. Although the hands hand probably been washed – they looked clean on the first glance – remains of blood still colored the fingernails with a dark crimson and he doubted this was all from treating the Spy. He could easily imagine how they looked like before.

"I'm vondering about zhat myself." Medic admitted, hesitatingly though. "But I don't remember being hurt, just a few bruises and a headache. I zhink I vas lucky."

"Wait, mon ami, what about zat Wagnér? I saw 'ow 'e zrew you to ze ground, attacking you wiz a dagger. I zink 'e did 'urt you, did 'e not?" Spy suddenly pointed out. "I did not see all, zough, but you were still for a moment, and 'e laughed. I zought you passed out zere..."

The German looked at him uncomfortably. He really didn't remember much, everything happened so quickly.

"Vell, now zhat you mention it... but he didn't do much harm, I vas only unconscious for a second or two..." He frowned as he tried to find more of the secluded information in his mind. "I zhink zhat's all."

"And I think ya talking bullshit, mate." Sniper growled and reached for the man's coat.

"Hey, vhat are you doing? Stop zhat!" But the Australian ignored the protest, seizing the Medic by the wrists when the man tried to push his hands away.

"Not what ya thinkin'. Bloody... damn ya, liar! What about this?" Carefully, he shoved the once white sleeve back, revealing a deep cut, already encrusted with blood, on the man's left wrist. The Medic stared at it in amazement.

"Ich... I... I really forgot about zhat... vhen I freed myself I cut... but it vas an accident and not important at zhat moment..." Right, there was the broken cup, the rope. Was he becoming finally insane or were those memory gaps a side effect of the drugs Wagner had given him?

Next to him, Pyro sighed and already walked ahead, back to the place they had left the medical equipment. First the Spy, now the Medic. Medicine was interesting, if it weren't for difficult patients like those two.

Urged on by the Sniper, Medic followed him. There was no sense in refusing, and he didn't want to fight anymore, not today. Better let the Pyro have a look at it now. Too bad they had to go back into the sunlight.

"You don't have to come along, stay here and keep Spy company." he weakly insisted, but the Sniper ignored him.

"Engie, ya stayin' here?"

"Sure thing, buddy. Enjoy yaself." He grinned and soon was engaged in a more serious conversation with the Spy.

x x x

"Seriously, mate, who do ya think ya foolin'? Alright. No injuries. Bloody liar." Sniper kept cursing while Pyro silently dressed the Medic's wrists after cleaning them.

"If zhat's your vay to be vorried I had razher have you stop. And I'm not a liar." the German exclaimed. "I simply had ozher priorities, so I forgot, Dummkopf."

"A'ythin' e'se, Medic?" Pyro interrupted their quarrel. "S'y sa'd t'at Wag'er att'cked you, a'd you 'ad a b'ack-out. W'ere?" he added when the Medic shook his head.

"Vell... I zhink somevhere at zhe shoulder or collarbone, just a small cut if I remember correctly."

"Bah, ya memory's weak as piss, off with ya bloody coat!"

"Aren't ve charming today, Herr Sniper?" But despite his dry remark he unbuttoned the jacked and hissed when he felt a sudden pain the moment he tried to get out of it. The blood on his clothes had dried and now the fabric of his shirt and coat stuck to his skin.

"Right. Nothing at all, as ya said."

"Shut up, Sniper, I got it. And you better remember vho has to look after your vounds after zhis." the Medic ranted while Pyro helped him to free at least his right arm from the jacket.

"You b'tter sit do'n ag'in, I w'll soft'n t'is wit' wate' and remov' w'ateve' st'cks to the wou'd bit by bit." Pyro suggested, already taking place on the sandy ground again. It was late afternoon by now, it was still hot but the angle of the sun didn't provide as much direct light as before and he wanted to get this done quickly.

"Sni'er, you sit be'ind 'im, so 'e c'n lean on you."

"Forget it, vhy should I do zhat? Leave me alone, idiot."

"Bec'se it is eas'er f'r me w'en you sit still a'd don' b'ck aw'y in cas' it 'urts." Pyro explained it as a matter of fact. "You c'n also lie do'n or lean ag'inst a pile of cor'ses, if you pref'r."

"I hope ya don't find those dead guys more comfortable than me, mate."

"Vho do you idiots zhink you are talking too? And if I vere you I veren't zhat confident! Vhat are you doing, bastard?" He tried to move backwards when one of the Sniper's long legs suddenly wrapped around his waist, but his back hit the man's chest.

"Don't ya worry, mate, that's just more comfortable for my leg, no ulterior motive. Now just let the kid do his work. Honestly, what's wrong with ya? Thought ya stopped bein' that aggressive..."

"Ach, lass mich in Ruhe." he hissed through his teeth as Pyro ripped out a small, dried up piece of fabric. The Sniper was right, he had been aggressive and annoyed again since they had arrived, although there was no reason at all. He didn't really know why, but somehow he didn't want to allow the man to come too close to him. And now he was so close that he could feel the Sniper's breath against his cheek. Of course Pyro was there, too, yet he felt nervous, and after all the excitement he just wished he could finally get a rest for a while.

"Your back vould have done as vell." he argued. At least the water Pyro had used had dissolved the old blood and he could take off his jacket. He glanced down and shivered. A large bloodstain covered his shirt just above the left collarbone, definitely not caused by his fights with the guards. This was his own blood, hardly coming from a small cut. The water that was poured over his chest was warm, but thanks to the increasing wind it soon felt cool, almost chilly.

"Maybe. But I don't wanna stare at them bloody bodies all the time and I wanna see what's happenin' here." Sniper rested his chin on the Medic's right shoulder and watched Pyro as he carefully removed pieces of the torn up shirt. Still covered by smeared blood it was hard to tell what kind of injury was hidden there. Definitely not a small cut, as the Medic had insisted.

The German breathed in sharply a few times, whenever Pyro worked a bit too quickly.

"Ok'y?" the young man asked. "Do you w'nt som'thin' ag'inst the pain?"

"No, I don't know vhat zhat man gave me, too risky, zhanks. Just get over vizh it." After a few moments he didn't feel much more of the pain, his body got used to it. If it only were less persistent, then he could finally doze off and get some sleep.

"Stop zhat, Nicholas."

Confused by the sudden words the Sniper lifted his head, as did Pyro in surprise when he heard a real name uttered so casually. Then he set back to his work, feeling uncomfortable when he began to guess what the shirt would reveal.

"Stop _what?_ Ain't doin' anythin'!" Sniper wondered.

Equally puzzled the Medic opened his eyes, not realizing until then that he had closed them. He also hadn't been aware that his head was resting against the Australian's shoulder.

'Yes, stop vhat, I vonder... breazhing like zhis, smelling like his... can hardly tell you to stop making me nervous. You certainly vould get zhat vrong...' But that was exactly the problem.

"Nozhing. I'm just tired. Forget it."

"Alright." Shifting his body a bit to gain a more comfortable position he finally closed his arms around the Medic's waist, expecting him to protest, but nothing happened.

"He tried to strangle ya again, that bloody bastard, right?"

"How do you know?"

"Just saw ya throat, ya got new bruises there..."

"Before you ask me again – ja, I'm alright, he didn't vant to kill me, just knocked me out." A shiver ran down his spine when suddenly the stubbly skin of the Sniper brushed along his throat.

'You are _not_ trying to kiss me _now_, are you, you idiot?' he almost shouted aloud but bit his tongue in time. 'Ve are not alone, can't even yell at you...'

"Pyro, are you done?" He had just noticed that the young man had stopped tending to the injury and worried if it was because of the Sniper's behavior.

He missed the look the other two men exchanged - as far as it was possible, given the fact that Pyro still wore his mask - after Sniper caught a quick glance of the exposed skin.

Gently, the Australian touched the Medic's shoulders and pulled him back once more before the German could look down his own chest.

"It's... la'ger an' dee'er than I thou't." Slightly agitated Pyro searched the Medic's bag. "Pa'ts o' it bleed st'ongly now. I 'ave to p'tch th'm up w'th a few sti'ches. Sni'er, ho'd tig't to 'is shou'ders."

Before the Medic could speak or interfere, a sharp pain, caused by the quick movements of the small needle, made him gasp. Instinctively he wanted to push the Pyro's arm away, but Sniper caught his hand just in time.

He held it, kept it away from Pyro and the cuts, while the Medic's face lay against his throat and he felt rapid breaths on his skin.

"I'm tired... just leave me alone..." The German's voice was low, almost desperate.

"I know. Ya can rest in a few minutes." he whispered back, his mouth slightly brushing the other man's lips, but he controlled himself, wondering if Pyro really was as absorbed in his task as he seemed to be while the young man covered the cut-in swastika with a layer of bandages and plaster.

x x x to be continued x x x

_Mea Culpa Maxima oO_

_I forgot to update here yesterday -_- I published this part on DA Saturday instead of Sunday and for some reason ffnet didn't work that day on my browser (or was down? Bitchy? Teasing me? No idea), so I thought I'd simply try again Sunday and I... forgot -_- evil lazy brain! I apologize ^^_

_So, have a Monday update ^_^°_

_Btw. I have a tumblr-account as of late, same name: ligeiamaloy_

_I don't offer much yet but if anybody wishes to follow me, I'd be honored and happy :D (what to expect there in the future: reblogged nsfw/porny pics and shorter fics I can't publish here or on Deviantart without breaking the no-porn! rules. I know I already bend it here ^^ You can also find the link to my DA-profile there.).  
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_Okay, enough attention-wh**eing aka advertising, back to business, namely translations:_

_**Translations:**_

_"Nicht wahr..." = "right...?"_

_hundertsten = hundredth_

_Wunderbar = wonderful_

_Dummkopf = stupid/idiot/stupid idiot_

_"Ach, lass mich in Ruhe" = "leave me alone", in this context rather "stop being annoying."_


	29. Chapter 29

**Snowbowl 29 – Discarded Toys**

The passengers of this train hadn't been a noisy crowd from the very beginning of their voyage. Despite the number of humans caged inside the walls of steel, iron and decorative wood it had been surprisingly quiet. Not lonely like nobody or only a few had been there. They just didn't laugh or argue or complain, no matter what had happened. Some rested, some worked, some waited. Sometimes some left, following the orders of the boss – no matter who was the one in charge, as long as he was the one who commanded them. No questions, no resistance. Of course no discussions. Being surrounded by more than three dozen of those men made one feel secure while everything around went smoothly, executed efficiently. Be it guarding the office. Be it guarding the doors. Be it a simple task like preparing a meal or washing clothes. Smooth like clockwork, done with perfection instead of hesitation or protest. An atmosphere of missing inspiration and boredom.

Suddenly, everyone was absent. No more guards, no henchmen or servants, the lack of 40 empty personalities felt more exciting than their company. Wagner had disappeared, too. He always disappeared and only came back for a few minutes. Sometimes he was gone for days and it was so nice to have him back, if only for a little, precious time.

The task of waiting changed from dullness to tension, how thrilling. Being the only person left in those parts of the train had the thrill of an adventure; and when the noises of four men echoed from the walls the compartment was suddenly filled with more life than it had been since their departure almost two weeks ago.

The footsteps of a pair of high heels quickly rushed over the floor - leaving the machine room in a satisfied, but nervous hurry - the clicking sound drowned by the exclamations and shouts of the intruders. They were coming closer, but they wouldn't win! They had bothered Wagner long enough, it was time they were stopped for good. And then they could finally go home, together.

Their eyes crossed were she had seen them for the first time – in front of Smith's office. Slowly she raised her arm, swallowing hard as she aimed at the leader, steadying her position and straightening her back. She would give a firm stand, they would soon learn that all their struggling and opposing had been in vain. The voyage ended here. Now.

x x x

The moment they saw the small figure in front of them they stopped, almost falling over each other – the corridor was too narrow for them to walk side by side, so Demoman and Scout followed Soldier's and Heavy's lead and came just in time to a halt before they ran into their backs.

"Well, my lady, I suggest you put this gun away and explain us who you are." Soldier displaying such a level of gallantry was not something his teammembers were used to and all three of them suppressed a chuckle. The young woman confronting them seemed hardly a threat – her inner struggle to hide her nervousness showed plainly in her face and her arms holding the weapon trembled no less than the rest of her body. Her whole appearance was more sad than frightening, with her untidy hair and wrinkled clothes.

"Ah! I remember ya!" Scout was the first to recognize the face. "Ya were workin' for Smith, the secretary!"

"Ah!" Heavy and Demoman shared the exclamation, finally able to place the scared face. They had only seen her for a few minutes, when she lead them to Smith and later to their quarter at the end of the train on the day of their arrival.

"Lady, this war is no place for a good woman. I ask you again to drop the gun and -"

Her shrill voice interrupted the veteran's request.

"Don't talk! I arrest you! If you don't listen to me, I kill you! It's all your fault, because of you we can't go home! I'm sick of you and this forsaken place! No! Stop where you are!" she shrieked and backed off a few steps, almost stumbling over her own feet when the Heavy took a step forward.

"Little woman is too afraid. Hurt you we not want." Calm and a bit amused he went a bit closer, but the sight of the massive man moving in her direction only increased her anxiety and finally, she shot, her eyes closed and her hands shaky.

Without much room to dodge the result could have been devastating. But thanks to her lack of experience with arms and her tension the bullet only grazed the Russian's shoulder, leaving nothing but a harmless wound that would heal quickly even without much care.

The next shot echoing through the corridor was sure and went right through soft flesh.

She dropped the gun and pressed her hands against the right side of her body. Blood soaked through her white blouse where the projectile had left her abdomen.

All four men were about to dash to her the second she fell down on her knees when another figure entered through the door leading to Smith's office.

"Thomas! Why!" Turning her head to him once he stood next to her, she stared at him with puzzled, sad and dying eyes.

"Stupid bitch, do you think I would allow something like you to break my toys?" He shook his head in disgust and gave a little, disdaining snort before he faced the others.

"WAGNER!" Only a man like the Soldier could manage to shout through clenched teeth. All four men were readying their weapons, finally, their chance to end this had come.

Wagner's mutilated face wore an amused expression and he bowed with a smirk, not at all disturbed by the events.

"But of course. I'm glad you could make it, my friends. I hope her insolent behavior doesn't ruin our delightful game for you."

"Ye bloody tumshie, when yer thinkin' me and me friends here are jist ye bloody toys ye better think 'gain!" Growling and seething Demoman squeezed between Soldier and Heavy who made way for the Scotsman. Scout stayed behind, a strange, anxious feeling he couldn't define crept through him as he watched the man, heard him speak and saw how he treated the woman at his feet.

"But my dear Demoman, although I understand your hostility I advice you to keep calm. Remember, you have many questions and right now only I am your answer for everything. You'd rather want me alive, I assure you." He smirked and shook off the shaking hand of the dying woman that reached pleadingly for his leg without even looking at her.

"You are very confident to think we won't kill you, freak." Soldier bellowed, but he, too, didn't fire at Wagner. None of them wanted to kill the woman with a reckless attack, but as they saw it she was already behind hope, so her fate didn't stop them in the first place. But they knew that truth lay in Wagner's words, if they liked it or not.

"Of course I am, why shouldn't I? I'm probably the biggest mystery for you in this game, and I bet you are dying to know who or what I am and why I do all this. Am I right?" He laughed, the gun still in his hand, but not aiming at anybody. The violent coughing that soon changed into a pained gurgling finally made him look down.

"Thomas... why... I thought you loved me..." With her eyes wide open and viscid threads of blood running from her mouth she looked up to him, already unaware of what was happening around her. She had forgotten about the four men, the train and the desert.

"Don't be ridiculous, sleeping with you was as interesting as a conversation with your former boss." His cold stare made her wince and finally, she collapsed and fell to the floor, her face hitting the hard ground.

"He, on the other hand," Wagner ignored her and spoke on like nothing happened, nodding and smiling cheerfully at the Scout. "You'd be surprised how inspiring this little boy is, my dear Miss Johnson." The puzzled faces of the four men delighted him, but not as much as the shattered expression of the Scout.

"Whaddya mean, ya freak, what the fucking hell are ya talking about?" His guts suddenly felt tied up in knots, the look in this man's cold eyes was familiar, but he refused to understand what his mind was trying to tell him.

"Do you really 'ave to ask, mon petit putain?"

Before the others could stop him Scout leaped over the Demoman's shoulder, almost falling over his feet, and jumped at the hysterically laughing man, throwing him to the floor, his hands around his throat.

"YOU WERE THERE, ASSHOLE, WHY WOULD YA... YA STINKIN' BASTARD!" the boy yelled and Wagner still laughed, seizing the Scout's wrists and freeing his throat with ease from the grip.

"Oh come on, mon amour, are you really that stupid? Or is it maybe... that you don't _want_ to believe the truth? Do you need some help to understand?" His features became soft and he smiled gently at the boy, as he had done before, let his hands go and lay his own on the Scout's hips.

The youth's face was blank, his skin pale, ashen. With dull eyes he stared at the scarred face and the faked smile, his stomach about to revolt when two strong hands pulled him up and away from Wagner.

"Scout, what is matter?" Heavy asked softly, alarmed by the expression of their youngest teammember. "What he did?"

"Whaddya scared of, laddie?" Demoman, equally worried, gently patted the boy's back, while the Soldier pointed his rocket launcher at the snickering Wagner.

"You want me to tell them, Scout?"

"SHUT UP YOU FILTHY MAGGOT! DON'T MESS WITH MY MEN!" A vein in his temple throbbed angrily as the Soldier put his foot on Wagner's chest.

"Scout! Wait!" Heavy shouted as the boy suddenly broke away from them and ran away, the whole way back through the train.

"DON'T RUN AWAY, SEE THEM OTHER LADS!" Hoping that his advice had reached the Scout's ears Demoman looked after him.

"Damn you bastard, I should just blow that stupid smile off your ugly face."

"I'd love to see that, Soldier-boy." Wagner retorted the threat dryly. "Do you really think I'd lie here peacefully if I preferred to escape? Do you really think the boy would have survived his little attack if I hadn't decided to play along?"

"Why did you come out of your hiding place anyway?" Soldier inquired and fought the urge to ram the end of his weapon into Wagner's scarred face when the man crossed his arms under his head and made himself more comfortable.

"Why you ask? Firstly, this woman annoyed me, if somebody kills one of you, that's me. Second – I was curious what would happen, that's all I think." he concluded with a nod.

"Ye bloody..."

The sound of an explosion from the top end of the train caught all their attention, even Wagner sat up and turned his head.

"This came from the machine room." he hissed. The lights flickered and went out when the electricity died.

"For you... my love... see... they... can't escape you now..." the weak voice of the woman suddenly spoke, she lifted her head and faintly smiled at Wagner. "You... won... your game... let's go... home..." Then her eyes became blank and her head fell down again, the smile still on her face.

"Stupid wench, go home_ how _when you blow up the train, silly goose?" he snorted in disgust at the corpse and, ignoring the others, he stood up and ran towards the exit that led to the next compartment.

"Wait, you damn hippie, don't think you can just run away like that!" Soldier cursed and followed him, so did the others. They had wasted precious time with talking instead of simply capturing this man, and now the machine room was the first priority.

They entered the next part of the train and ran along another long, narrow corridor, passing rooms without caring about their purpose and finally arrived at the source of the commotion.

Whoever designed the engine room was clever enough to refrain from decorating this chamber with wood as well, so the flames weren't high and already dying. The air was dark with smoke and they could smell burnt and molten cables.

Wagner had already taken one of the nearby fire extinguishers and fought back the last flames, Soldier followed suit, while Demo and Heavy tried to open the security latches of the windows so the smoke could leave once the fire was dead.

"Quite a damage." Soldier frowned as he eyed up the burst machines and devices.

"Engineer busy will be." Heavy agreed.

"Aye, where's the bloody bastard?" Everyone looked around at Demoman's angry shout, but Wagner was gone although Soldier was sure he had been still there, close to him just a second ago.

"DAMMIT SON OF A MOTHERFUCKING MAGGOTFUCKER!"

x x x

Scout sprinted through the corridor as fast as he could, trying to push away the image of those two cold eyes staring at him. He passed the part that looked like a large canteen and finally the rooms where they had found the two dead henchmen, but he didn't care, he didn't even stop or hesitate when the sound of an explosion reached his ears.

He jumped out of the train, almost running over the Pyro who stood close to the entrance.

"Bloody hell, kid, what happened there? What's that smoke comin' from the other end..."

But Scout didn't pay any attention to the Sniper's question, he ignored all of them as they stood there and gazed at the clouds of smoke that had soon followed an explosion they had heard a minute ago.

"Heya, boy, are ya listenin' to us?" the Engineer tried, but Scout had already seized the collar of the surprised Spy who still sat in the sand.

"What is wrong, lapin?" the French wondered, confused by the desperate look in the boy's eyes.

"Tell me it were you!" Scout cried and shook him. His face was still pale, only his cheeks glowed in a bright, feverish crimson.

"Excuse-moi, I do not know what is ze matter, Scout." The usual annoyance rose in him, as it always did when he had to deal with the Scout's impulsive, immature behavior, but something in his eyes, the same something he had noticed before but couldn't place, also worried him.

"JUST TELL ME ALREADY IT WERE YOU! YOU AND NOT HIM!" He both yelled and pleaded, obviously hoping for a certain, reassuring, comforting answer the Spy couldn't give him.

"I would love to 'elp you, but I do not know what you want to 'ear. What are you talking about?"

The Scout's voice and expression suddenly changed. He became calm, his breath went slower and he even smiled – an almost grotesque smile in his otherwise frozen features.

The grip at the collar got stronger and his words rang with a threatening undertone.

"Tell me it was you."

"What..." Spy was relieved when Pyro finally pulled Scout away from him by his arm.

"Sc't... ca'm do'n... it... it wasn't 'im... all the t'me..." the small man calmly answered the boy's question, sounding dismayed behind his mask.

"LET GO!" the Scout yelled and pulled his arm free from the Pyro's grip. Then he started to chuckle, and finally, he laughed, sneering at the bewildered Spy.

"My gawd, what a loser, eh, frogs? Gettin' caught like that. Yo, only an idiot could be so stupid. And ya call yaself a Spy. What a joke!"

Medic and Engineer had joined Pyro, trying to calm the Scout down who almost broke into hysterics.

Spy still watched the boy with a frown, wondering what could have caused this unusual behavior. Yes, he had been insulted and cursed by Scout before, and he had known for a while that the boy's bratty behavior should hide the crush Scout had developed for him for some mysterious reason, but this outburst had nothing to do with that. Maybe the last days had been too grueling for the youth, after all, almost drowning in a dark water-tank, holding a dying person he thought was the man he liked wouldn't have been easy for a grown man as well. And then he remembered Scout's worried look when he arrived with Sniper and Engineer, how naturally he had addressed him... and those changed eyes... broken eyes and the desperation when he hoped Spy had been _it_. Finally he understood what had to be the only explanation.

"Mon dieu.. merde... c'est horrible... my god, Mathieu..." His words of sincere dismay went unheard as Scout's angry curses mixed with the voices of the other three men who just had returned to the group.

x x x

"I demand you to tell me at once what is going on here!" Soldier ordered, glaring at his men as they talked to the Scout, all at once. The boy had stopped snapping and yelling back, he simply stood there, his gaze unfocused, and let them say whatever they wanted, he didn't listen anyway.

"HELLOOOO SWEETHEARTS! ANYBODY HOME?" At his raised voice the others fell silent and turned around, finally realizing that the second group had returned.

"Good to see ye all are kickin' n alive. And the lad's back, too." Demo grinned. He hadn't missed that something seemed to be wrong, and of course it had to do with the Scout's sudden escape earlier, but he was relieved to see the young man with the other teammates, at least he hadn't run off all alone this time.

Scout smiled weakly at him and didn't protest when Pyro shoved him a few steps away from the others, further away from the Spy, giving the youth the chance to breathe a bit more freely.

Another person who smiled was the Engineer.

"Heck ya, all alive, and ya guys, too, as ah can see." He beamed at them. "Has been some darn time since all of us were together." he added more seriously. Thoughtfully, he looked at the Spy, who now wore a sorrowful expression, and at the Medic, who was urged to sit down again by a persistent Sniper. For a second the Texan wondered when those two would finally behave like grown-ups and came to terms - whatever was the matter with Scout would be enough to deal with. And those were only the less important priorities on their list of problems.

"Care ta tell us what happened, Soldier?" he inquired. "What's up with the explosion and the smoke?"

"Yeah, what's with that bloody train anyway, mate?" Sniper tossed in. "I tell ya, some of us could use a piece of rest now." His sideglance at the Medic was answered with a disgruntled snort by the German.

"One step at the time, boys." the Soldier warned and sat down on one of the rocks, gratefully accepting the bottle with water the Engineer gave him. He drank and passed it on Heavy before he reported what had happened.

"So this Wagner-maggot is still somewhere around, but we couldn't find him on our way back." he concluded their story. "After the explosion the electricity died. After a while an emergency power system started, so at least some of the lights are back and the doors between the compartments can be opened and closed. Those doors that were shut when the incident happened won't bust though." With a sigh, he smiled wryly at the Texan.

"I'm sorry, but I fear you..."

"Don't worry, pardner." Stopping him with a wave of his hand the Engineer nodded. "Ah ain't gonna rest before that thing works just fine 'gain."

"Thought so. Just don't overwork yourself, you hear me? Anyway." The Soldier cleared his throat, trying to ban the worry from his voice before anybody noticed. "There are two things we have to do before we can rest. We have to get rid of the bodies, it will do no good when they rot so close to us. I don't know about wild animals around here, but I already have my hands full with you maggots and that Wagner around. Don't need more of them."

"What you suggest, Soldier?" Heavy interrupted him before the American got lost in one of his speeches again.

"Well, as I told Pyro before, I think the best is we transport them away a few miles and burn them to ashes. This will be our task, Heavy and Pyro. As it is, Spy won't be of much help and I want you, Medic, to rest as well. No, shut up!" Frowning, he glared at the German when he was about to protest. "We don't know what will happen when Wagner decides to strike again and we don't need a medical support with shaky hands who looks like he's about to collapse any minute. Engineer," he continued, ignoring the curses the Medic muttered under his breath, "before you start in the machine room, Demo, Scout and you set up some traps and defensive devices. Please make sure you feed your sentry with the correct data of who belongs to us and who not! When you are done, Demoman can help us with those guys there."

"What 'bout me? Want me to help ya with ya campfire?" Most of the men grinned at the Sniper's question. It was plain enough that the Australian wasn't too keen about that task.

"Pah, like you vant to get your hands dirty. Don't zhink anybody believes you vould vant to help zhem." the Medic scoffed sarcastically.

"Hey, why are ya bitchin' at me 'gain, doc?"

"I am not bitching, you and your laziness simply annoy me!"

"Ya didn't seem very annoyed when ya leaned 'gainst me some little while ago, ya..."

"Excuse me when I let you know that your boys' honey moon quarrels simply annoy all of us." At the Soldier's dry remark they ended their argument and fell silent.

"Fine." Satisfied that he had their attention again, Soldier resumed his explanation. "Sniper, if you promise to be a good boy and not to bother our Medic too much I want you to stay here and help wherever you are needed. I leave that to you, Engie. When he can assist you, have him. Otherwise, Sniper, have an eye on Spy and Medic, I don't want any more surprises from our friend Wagner."

"Alright." the Australian confirmed shortly. This meant basically holding the Texan's toolbox and keeping a lookout for anything happening out of the ordinary. Not that he could do much more with his leg and arm anyway. He wasn't as lazy as the Medic loved to point out, but in this case he was rather glad to be confined to the train. The accusation that he hadn't helped at all to free the German still stung, although he knew it had been nothing more than a usual snide remark, more caused by weariness than anything.

"Good. Questions? No? Fine. Get moving, boys, I want the security up before nightfall and I hope we get rid of at least the half of them sleeping beauties here. Engie, you are in charge of the men with you. Maggots, you follow his orders! His words are your law!"

With that, the group set to their assigned tasks.

Pyro patted the Scout's back, muttering some apologizing words and joined Heavy, who had already seized one of the corpses and carried it to the nearest jeep.

"Let me lend ya a hand." the Sniper offered Medic to help him getting up, but the German declined. At first, he was about to snap at the Australian again, then he shook his head, smiling.

"No, I can walk, zhank you zhough. For your help. Go and see vhat you can do for zhe Engineer, zhis is important. I vill assist Spy."

"Wait a second s'il vous plaît, docteure." the Spy asked after Medic tried to support him so the French could go easy on his leg. "I 'ave to talk to ze lapin for a moment, please leave us, just a minute, if you do not mind."

The German nodded and gathered his bag and some water for later, while the Spy limped to the young man and gently touched his shoulder from behind.

"Scout..."

The youth turned around at once, brushing the hand away violently.

"Don't ya _ever_ dare touchin' me again, asshole." he scowled, avoiding the man's eyes.

"Listen, lapin, I zink I know what 'appened and I am sorry zhat..." This was awkward. He didn't feel more for the boy than he did before, but the Scout was a teammate and half a child, and the Spy hated to think of what this Wagner might have done using his face and voice. Things had been bad lately for the youth and he felt sorry for him.

"Shut up, you know shit!" Scout glowered at him, his eyes lost their dull expression for a second and would almost have been as bright and spirited as they used to be - weren't it for the gloomy, sinister and desperate spark. In spite of himself the Spy had to admit that eyes like these looked interesting in such a young face.

"See, Scout, zis is..." he tried again, but the youth interrupted him once more, turning away.

"Forget it, frogs. I was an idiot, you are the last bastard on this fuckin' planet I wanna talk to right now. That's all I have to tell ya. Now lemme alone and piss off, the nurse's waitin' for ya."

x x x to be continued x x x

_Sorry for the delay ^^ I messed this chapter up thoroughly - I already started on Saturday, but after two or three pages I decided it was crap. The whole script was crap and I hated it, hated myself and was sure I'm a complete failure even as an amateur fanfic writer (okay, I had a little crisis of self-doubts this weekend anyway...). So I deleted everything I had so far and went to bed rather frustrated._

_Wrote this last night and it turned out better... well, at least better as my first attempt ^^_

_Anyway, I wonder how many readers remember that once upon a time 100 chapters ago Scout was introduced as Matthew/Matt? xD_


	30. Chapter 30

**Snowbowl 30 – Restless**

"And 'is manner to speak, it is, 'ow would you say... razer affected." the Spy added.

For the last thirty minutes the French and the Medic had described what they remembered from their encounters with Wagner while the Engineer reprogrammed the data chip for his sentries. As busy as the Texan appeared to be – bustling from one end of the corridor to the other, adjusting the screws of his buildings and entering seemingly endless combinations of numbers into the little devices he had attached to the doors – he listened to every word they said.

When they had entered the train a while ago he had insisted, along with the Sniper, that the two former captives should get some rest first, but in the end he agreed to the Spy's suggestion to make use of the information they might have now. It was a wise decision and the Engineer regretted he hadn't dismantled his sentry and checked the dataset a few days before. It would have saved them a lot of trouble, as he noticed – somebody had overwritten the information of the Spy and replaced it with the characteristics of another person. And that was only the obvious part. Another string of code had been well hidden and was tricky to find when nobody was searching for it. It was linked to the Spy's data and basically let the sentry identify everyone who trespassed as Spy. So even when Wagner would have decided to walk in and out in another disguise or even as himself the sentry would have let him pass.

Computer programming was a rather new technical field and the Engineer had been eager to learn as much about it as possible as he was sure that the new technology opened unlimited new possibilities for him and his devices. But obviously it had its downsides, especially when people of equal or better skills but with different motives were involved.

On the other hand – if everything went smoothly it would be boring, he finally concluded. A single mistake could lead to lethal consequences, but life definitely was more exciting with a nice challenge. The more at stake, the more exciting.

"True." the Medic nodded. The German sat next to the Spy on the floor, leaning against the wall, right in front of the door of the last compartment. The room behind them was still closed, the door locked and impossible to open by hand, as most doors were since the power outage – those that were open anyway were still open, those closed stayed closed.

Next to the locked room they had found a dorm with several bunk beds and they assumed that they had just another storage room or showers behind them, but the Engineer had decided they should keep the doors as they were for now until their defense was set up or until he got hold of the blueprints of the train. The more rooms were inaccessible the safer. So far they had a place to sleep, the machine room and a canteen required the half of the same compartment where Spy and Medic had been held captive. And Smith's quarter. They had yet to find out behind which doors more supplies, weapons and washing facilities were, but the Engineer declared that could wait.

"As ve said, his size and built vas zhe same as Spy's, ozherwise ve vould not have mistaken him, zhe main difference is his true face and zhe vay he valks and talks vhen he is himself." He paused a moment, pondering. "Vhoever he might really be."

"Well, that all fine an' stuff, boys." With a grim smile he replaced the computer chip in his portable computer device with another and reentered the same information as before.

"But ah tell ya, mah little machines are smart things, but not smart 'nuff to make a difference between the Queen of England and a dray-man."

"Well zen, mon ami, 'ow will ze sentry be of use for us when it can be fooled by 'im again when 'e looks like moi?" Spy wondered, sceptically watching the Engineer's focused face.

"Oh, don't ya worry, pardner, ah made a little adjustment here, a little adjustment there... and once them darlings are activated they gonna fire at everyone about ya size and wearin' a mask. And ah secured the data, there ain't no way to change it that easily 'gain and..."

"Wait, wait, but when it fires at everyone my 'eigh and built wiz a mask zat means moi aussi, non?" Spy interrupted him in bewilderment.

"Right, son, that's just the way it's gotta be." The Texan looked half proud, half guilty. "We ain't havin' no time ta come up with many nifty ideas, so this is the easiest way. Just stay away from the exits that lead out of that train and ya gonna be fine."

"Pah." the Spy snorted, and Medic patted his shoulder.

"Zhis is not too bad, I vas about to confine you to bed for a vhile anyvay, at least a day or two, so you can recover. You do not look too good."

"Ah, dear docteur, I can say zis about you, too." Spy retorted. "Wiz all zis blood and ripped clozes you look 'orrible."

"Ya look both horrible, boys. Hey, Scout, what's up?" Engineer greeted the young man.

"Yo, Demo sends me, sayin' I should ask ya if I can help here." Scout grinned. He, too, looked like he was in desperate need of some sleep, but everyone could see that the boy was too restless. They knew him well enough – telling him to get a rest would only earn them a snort or a growl, so they didn't bother, even the Engineer just shrugged.

"He's still busy with his stupid bombs, tellin' me I were too jittery to handle those fucked up explosives so I thought maybe you..." Then he noticed the Spy who watched him with a frown. The Scout's smile froze and he turned away when he suddenly remembered the French's, no, _the man's_ hands on his hips. Before his memory could remind him of other things he spoke with the Engineer, ignoring the other two men.

"But when ya don't have anythin' for me here I gonna ask the others, might as well help them with those rottin' idiots." He was already about to turn back and darted off once the Texan nodded. Scout was of no use for him when he was like this, and of course he had noticed, too, that the boy felt quite uncomfortable around the Spy since the man's return.

Or course the French hadn't missed this, too, and he was also aware of the last nervous glance the Scout passed at him when he went away. When his assumptions were true he felt really sorry for the youth.

"Docteur, do you know what did 'appen between Wagnèr and 'im? Ze boy's too pale. It does worry me."

"Vait, you vorry about somebody else zhan yourself? And zhe Scout of all people?" the Medic flouted but got serious at once. "I don't know, Spy, but I fear ve zhink zhe same zhing, and vhen zhis is true, it vorries me as vell. I doubt he vill tell us, maybe Pyro knows more about it. Zhey became somezhing like friends lately."

"Hm." The Spy tilted his head to the side. "Zey did, did zey not? It is an interesting development, zey were not very good friends before at all. Zings changed between zem."

At this moment, Demoman and Sniper entered through the door of the other end of the gangway.

"Oi, mates, how ya doin'?" The Australian waved at the small group and smiled at the Medic, who, with a low sigh, rolled his eyes. The Spy grinned.

"Well, zings changed between some people 'ere indeed."

x x x

He had almost bumped into Demoman and Sniper on his way outside, but he ignored them and their questions. Demo had sent him inside. Because he had too much to do and Scout wouldn't be a help. But obviously he had already been finished with most of his work. So they didn't want him outside. He wasn't useful for Engineer as well, besides, he would rather have been lost in the snowfields again than with _him_ in the same room.

Scout cursed himself, he had been an idiot, foolish and childish. And blind. No wonder that the French disliked him, even after they... he shook his head. They hadn't. All that happened the last days was of no worth, all that he had endured and decided to learn to like... he refused to think about that. He left the train and followed one of the Jeeps he saw a few miles away. Running was good, he hadn't exercised enough lately, he would run and work with the others until the air would burn in his lungs. Maybe then he could just fall asleep without dreaming of anything.

A column of smoke rising into the sky told him he had almost reached his destination.

Only a few minutes later the smell of burnt flesh reached his nose and as he already felt faintly sick, he gagged, forcing the sour taste back down his throat. Half of the corpses were already piled up in the sand, far away enough from the train so the stench wouldn't bother them.

The night was close and the wind felt chilly on his skin, but only reluctantly he moved closer to the fire, lending Soldier a hand with another dead, heavy body.

Heavy carried a man of almost his own size alone, seemingly with ease, but both Soldier and the Russian were covered in sweat and dirt, their faces red and weary. Only the Pyro appeared to be unimpressed, but after all it was not possible to tell how he felt or if keeping the fire alive and under control made him suffer at all.

But it had been a long day for all of them. The heat engulfed him soon, too, and sweat ran down his face and when he and the older American had disposed of the body – thrown it into the fire – his shirt stuck to his body and it became harder to breath. The heated air, the smell and the exhaustive task drained the youth of what was left of his strength and his mind only focused on not breaking down under the weight of their load and on not getting too close to the fire.

As the sky turned dark the flames flickered merrily despite their gruesome purpose, the red and orange blaze illuminating the silhouettes of both the living and the dead.

Scout had no eye for the grotesque and terrifying beauty of the funeral pyre in the midst of a desert in the night. Everything was better than looking at Spy and thinking.

x x x

Once back with the others the Engineer and the Demoman had quickly exchanged about their security arrangement before the Scotsman left again to assist the second group with the fire and Engineer finally shut himself away in the machine room.

From the outside, Demo and Sniper had placed a generous amount of sticky bombs and other explosives that would be strong enough to push back intruders and alert the team without blowing up their new shelter. From the inside, Engineer had placed several motion sensors on most doors and all the entrances and exits. One sentry guarded the opening were the train had been separated from the rest, a second one in front of Smith's office and a smaller one right by his side should keep the Texan safe while he was busy repairing the damages of the earlier detonation.

The Engineer was tired, too, but wanted to wait for the return of Soldier and the others so he could brief them about the devices and codes needed to enter the train's cockpit and the dorm. He felt quite confident that at this rate it would be difficult for any stranger, Wagner or not, to break in without any of them noticing.

Although he knew that the Soldier would be furious when he learned that he worked alone the Engineer preferred being able to tend to the machines undisturbed. As much as the others tried, they were more in his way than providing real help, so he was relieved when he and the Sniper could finally convince Spy and Medic to get some rest.

x x x

The Frenchman stretched on his bed as well as he could with his injured leg. He hadn't known how much he had missed a real bed until now, even if it was simple and the mattress and the covers thin. When the Sniper offered to organize something to eat first he declined with a short snort, put off his tie, jacket and shirt, not bothering with the remains of his pants, and wrapped himself up in the blanket.

A gentle snore and occasional grunts soon convinced Medic and the Australian that the man was asleep.

"You don't have to stay here." Medic put his boots away and hesitated. Finally, he only discarded the blood stained shirt and followed the Spy's example. He wished he could feel as safe as the French and simply fall asleep.

"Yeah, I know. Mind when I smoke?" He had sat down on the floor at the bed the German had chosen, already a cigarette in the corner of his mouth.

"Yes, I mind vhen you smoke, especially here. Vhen you vish to pollute zhe air do zhat outside."

"Okay, got it." With a shrug he put the cigarette away and leaned with his elbow on the edge of the bed. "Any reason ya went straight for the bunk farthest away from the door? Don't ya think ol' tinkerbell's toys gonna keep us safe enough?"

"No, I mean, yes. Just vanted to. If you have a problem vizh zhat you can go to Spy or outside anytime." the German snapped, staring at the bottom side of the empty bed above him. For a while it was quiet but the Australian didn't move. When the Medic was almost about to doze off the Sniper spoke again.

"Why are ya like that? Thought we agreed getting along earlier. Like friends."

With an annoyed sigh he turned his head and blushed when he directly looked into the Sniper's watching eyes. On impulse he was about to make a snide remark to put him off, but then he only turned to his side, facing the man without meeting his gaze.

"You are right. I'm tired, I'm stressed and zhe last days vere a bit too exciting. You offer enough reasons for me to be angry vizh you, but I probably can't hold you responsible for all zhe mess zhat happened lately."

The Sniper chuckled.

"Apology accepted. Anyway, ya gettin' angry too quickly, mate, ya know." He smiled, and although he knew he would provoke another outburst and give the Medic one of the reasons to scoff at him, the Sniper raised his hand and carefully pushed a strand of brown hair out of the man's flushed face, his fingers only lightly touching his skin. But he was neither insulted nor snubbed, the German only sighed and took hold of his hand, shoving it away from his face.

"Ya hair's gotten longer."

"Like friends, you said." For a moment both remained silent. "And you need a haircut, too." the Medic stated after a while and Sniper gave a low laugh.

"Guess all of us do. Even Heavy hasn't shaved his big head. For at least... two days? He's gonna look like a jumbuck in no time."

"Vhat's zhat?"

The Australian grinned as he explained.

"A sweet-tempered 'n wooly sheep." Both chuckled and without being aware of it Sniper had intertwined their long fingers and begun to gently stroke the Medic's thumb with his.

His mood changed as he looked into the calm, amused grey eyes. The German's face seemed younger when he wasn't frowning or angry or complaining about the incompetence of the men whose injuries he had to deal with.

"Will, I'm sorry for, well, what happened in Dustbowl that other night."

The Medic hadn't expected this topic to come up all of a sudden and frowned, his hard expression reflecting his usual grim attitude.

"Vhat's zhat all of a sudden? Vant me to be sorry I broke your rib? I should, but truzh to be told, I am not. You deserved it."

"Yeah, ya right. Don't want ya to be sorry. Shouldn't have happened and ain't gonna do something like that 'gain. Not like that." He smiled wryly but was relieved when the man's features softened a bit.

"I should hope zhat." Medic answered dryly. "I vish it hadn't happened in zhe first place." he added after a pause, half surprised that the old scorn didn't flare up. Even more so – he had forgotten about it until the Sniper had to mention that unfortunate nightly encounter again.

"As I said, I'm sorry. Usually I don't ignore a 'no' ya know, so... whatever, ya get the idea." His free hand had started to ruffle the man's hair; he shifted the weight of his upper body, sitting up a bit and moved closer, but hesitated.

A sudden knock at the door startled both of them. The Medic freed his hand from the Sniper's, just realizing this moment he still held it and turned around, pulled the blanket over his shoulders and closed his eyes.

Sniper stood on his feet at once.

"Hey, ya still awake, Sniper?" The Engineer opened the door and peeked into the darkened room, his voice low.

"Er, yeah, what's up?" He passed a side glance at the German – no reaction, but he knew the man was as much asleep as he himself.

"Nothin', son. Just wanna tell ya ah found them darn blueprints of this place, ah have just unlocked the door to the next room and the one next to the machine room." A proud grin showed on his face, either he didn't notice the Sniper's uneasiness or he chose to ignore it. "We have a bathroom and some neat guns now. Just thought ya'd like knowin'. Well, ah better return to ma gear. Ya should catch some sleep, too." With that, he left and closed the door.

Taking a deep breath, the Sniper bent down, softly shaking the Medic's shoulder.

"Hey, Will... I'm sorry... I just..."

"Leave. I vant to sleep." Growling, the German shrugged the hand off. "You heard him. Zhere's a bazh, take a shower. I zhink you need one anyvay."

Sniper nodded. It didn't make sense to push matters now. They were both tired, and there were still more urgent problems. Like, how should he tell him about the cuts. All this could wait until the next day, when the Medic would have finally gotten a good, long rest. He sighed. Maybe a shower wasn't the worst idea.

"Guess ya right." he muttered. "Can think of two reasons ya want me to take a shower, and I don't know which one I prefer."

x x x

It was deep in the night when a pair of bare feet sneaked along the corridor.

Soldier, Heavy and Demoman had returned a few hours ago, worn out, chilly, hungry and sticky with dirt and sweat, the smell of the dead still clinging to them. Pyro had decided to watch the fire until it died and Scout wanted to stay with him, claiming it was too dangerous for one of them to stay back alone like this in the open. They were too tired to disagree, as they were to make use of the shower.

Instead, they went straightly into the dorm and occupied the first beds they could find, their noises commented by a disgruntled Spy who, as usual, awoke at the slightest sudden sound.

Only the Soldier changed his plan and – when the other two had already fallen asleep – snatched two blankets and left for the machine room, already preparing another speech about the risks and irresponsibility the Engineer showed when working alone.

After a while, it was silent. The walls of the train shielded them from the sounds of the wilderness, only the low, occasional bleeping of the Engineer's security devices could be heard, but everyone was so used to these that they would rather wake up when the sound would suddenly stop.

The Medic had tried to sleep, but only dozed off several times, his dreams too vivid and intense. For a while he wondered how much the drugs still affected his mind, but he knew that his clean mind was to blame. Too many memories had been dragged out of his subconscious and distracting his thoughts with the present didn't help to calm his nerves at all.

When the others had returned their noise – even when they tried to keep it low – had awakened him for good. He listened to their snores for a while, listened to the cursing Soldier as he left the room. Then the wound on his chest began to itch and he had to hold back from scratching it. But he grew more and more restless and finally decided to get up. The Pyro was a clever kid who learned fast and he trusted him to work thoroughly, but after all, he was the Medic of the team, it was his duty to decide when a treatment was successful or a failure. Careful not to wake up anybody he got out of his bed, frowning as well as blushing when he suddenly remembered that the... _events_ in Dustbowl had started in a similar way. He shoved that memory aside, silently cursing the Sniper and his damned long, warm fingers, and stepped into the corridor.

The blinds of the few windows were shut and only a few small lights flickered – so the train still only ran on emergency power. He turned the head to his left. On the floor, with his rifle across his lap, sat the Sniper, right in front of the door leading to the last compartment with its machines. The Medic smiled for a second. From this position the marksman could survey all entrances, including the one to the sleeping room. Yet the effectivity was questionable when the Australian was snoring like this.

Without making a sound he walked over the smooth floorboards and entered the bathroom, delighted when he found both a mirror and a stack of elemental medical supplies in one of the small cabinets.

x x x

A desperate and angry scream let the Sniper awake with a start. Recognizing the voice at once he jumped to his feet, the rifle ready in his hand, and rushed into the room to his right, halting when he saw the Medic standing in front of the mirror.

"Vhy... vhy didn't you tell me..."

Blood stained bandages lay on the floor and thin traces of blood ran down the Medic's chest. His fingertips, too, were stained red and again he scratched over the loathed, stitched up symbol on his skin, pulling at the thread with his nails. His face was pale and showing a mix of disgust, scorn, desperation and disappointment and the Sniper wasn't sure if the emotions were only caused by his recent, unfortunate discovery. But he didn't waste much thought about that. He let go of his gun, not caring when it fell to the ground like some discarded toy and rushed to the Medic, seizing his hands and pulling them away from the wound.

"Stop that, ya mongrel, what ya think ya doing?"

"Vhat does it look like, getting rid of zhis of course." the German snapped back, trying to free his hands. "Lass mich los, Du Idiot!"

"Calm down, or do ya want to wake up the others?" the Sniper hissed back. He looked at the bleeding cuts. "Now getta hold of yaself and tell me if ya need someone to stitch that again!"

"Dieses verfluchte Arschloch. I kill him. I tear him to pieces... ich... I... cut him open and rip out his guts and zhen I squash his heart like a..."

"HEY! WILL! STOP!" For a second he feared he would have to punch him to bring him back to reality. The cold, loathing glare in the Medic's eyes scared him and he wouldn't like to be in this Wagner's shoes the next time either of them met him. Despite of himself he smiled.

"When we see him next time ya better hurry, or I gonna kill him first."

Finally, the German gave up his struggle and gazed at the Sniper, his face calmer, but still shattered.

"Vhy didn't you tell me?" he asked again, and feeling a bit helpless, the Sniper sighed.

"Don't know. See, ya were tired and hurt 'n all... honestly, guess we thought ya better get some good rest first, okay? Was planning to tell ya tomorrow, when ya were feelin' better..." he explained, still convinced this had been the better plan. How could they guess the Medic would suddenly decide to check the injury in the middle of the night?

"Come on, I gonna fix this the best I can, okay?" He let the man's hand go and was both relieved and worried when the Medic didn't react at all. At least he didn't try to pull out the threads again. When the German didn't protest he picked up a washcloth, opened the tap and wet it with some water and carefully removed the fresh blood from the man's chest.

"Am I hurtin' ya?" He continued when Medic shook his head and, once he had finished, he tried to apply the wound with a clean, soft bandage.

"Zhis has to disappear."

"Guessed you would say that. See, when we are back, maybe ya can find a way to remove it, or cover it up, a tattoo or something." He had no idea if it was possible to simply cut away a scar like this. But they would figure something out then.

"Nicholas, I vill not vear zhis, not even a day." The Medic had calmed down, the aggression had vanished, but this cold attitude was more dangerous, as the Sniper knew.

"There's nothing ya can do about it now. Come on, ya are the clever one of us two, ya should know that." His attempt at a joke failed. "I said we find a way, alright? I know ya hate it, but it ain't helpin' when ya hurt yarself. There, this should do." He nodded at his work. Pyro had fixed it a bit more skillfully, but the bandage covered the whole wound and medical tape held in in place.

"Not a masterpiece, but sufficient. Are ya gonna wash ya hands alone or do I have to assist ya?" The way the Medic glared at him was more like his usual, annoyed self.

"I'm not a child, zhank you very much." He removed the blood from his fingers and fingernails as thoroughly as he could and dried them with a towel Sniper handed him.

"Better?" Sniper asked gently when the Medic didn't move.

"It has to go avay... help me, Nicholas."

The desperation and sadness in the man's eyes and voice were harder to bear than his anger or coldness. Feeling sad and helpless himself, Sniper sighed and put his hands on Medic's shoulders, pulling him a bit closer, not close enough for a real hug.

"Go to bed and get some bloody sleep. I gonna help ya in every way I can, but..." Although he felt guilty, although he felt like he took advantage of the situation he leaned forward and kissed him, only lightly brushing over the Medic's lips. Holding still no longer than the length of a breath and he withdrew, waiting.

"Zhank you, I keep zhat in mind." His face motionless, the Medic turned away and pushed the Sniper aside. "I go and sleep now." Without looking back at him, the German left the room; the Sniper could hear his footsteps as he walked along the corridor.

"Sleep well, ya needin' it."

x x x x to be continued x x x x

_Wow, 30 already. Hm. Party?  
>Well, I party a bit because I feel better than last week, guess my little "I'm the worst ever"-crisis is over, at least for now. Feels a lot better this way :) Thank you for all your kind words and support (and my beta for high-speed spellchecking. I'm really grateful, especially as I know that she has so much to do these days)!<br>_

_Inubunnie: Thanks for your feedback! I hope you like this chapter ;)_

_And here - translations:_

_"moi aussi" = "me, too"_

_"Lass mich los, Du Idiot!" = "Let go, idiot!"_

_"Dieses verfluchte Arschloch" = "This fucking/damned asshole"_


	31. Chapter 31

**Snowbowl 31 – Help me**

"Oui, it is good to be back. I even missed you, Monsieur 'eavy. Well, zat was what I zought before you kept me awake all ze night wiz your snoring." The Spy chuckled and avoided a playful blow from the Russian's big hand. After a day's and night's work all of them had enjoyed a good night's rest and their mood was bright while they enjoyed their breakfast in a relaxed atmosphere. Only the Medic still seemed rather tired out as the Spy noted, and he wondered how much this had to do with the snippets of conversation he had been lucky to overhear last night before the Engineer had interrupted them. Interesting indeed.

The French let his eyes wander while he thoughtfully took another sip of his coffee. A lot of things had changed between his team members and it wasn't because of the injuries or their dirty clothes. They had looked sloppy and filthy before, after other assignments. He was more interested in the ways they interacted with each other. Even before his little, involuntary hiatus from the team he had noticed a difference between the Engineer and the Soldier.

For almost three years those men had hardly spoken with each other, at least never when it hadn't be related to their work. But already during their last days in Dustbowl this suddenly changed and from one day to the other they behaved like old friends. It wasn't so much about what they said, more those little gestures – nods, grins, winks. Whatever caused this and whatever it really was, this bond seemed to have deepened lately. They reminded him a bit of old friends who met again years after they had had an argument and now made up. He felt sure that there was an interesting story behind this and maybe he would even get an answer when he asked the Engineer. But that would spoil the fun.

He almost grinned when he saw the Sniper's worried face. Well, he now knew what his behavior of late was about, and that of the Medic, of course. Interesting development and as far as he could judge from what he knew of their Medic's personality and his current expression the development wasn't over yet. This should be amusing to watch.

The one who probably had improved most lately was the Demoman. He had always been a surprisingly competent man, but in the past the Spy preferred to avoid him. When drunk, the Scotsman hadn't been a very favorable company and as being sober used to be the exceptional state they hadn't spent much time together outside their work. Sure, sometimes his antics used to be funny but all in all the babbling and stumbling of a drunkard was a sad, pathetic affair. But now, after his involuntary withdrawal, the Demoman seemed quite reasonable and likeable; and he had obviously begun a good friendship with their Heavy. Their differences in size, humor and attitude were pleasant to watch and listen to, both with a macabre charm but one rather rude and sheepish, the other calm and dignified. Both on the brink of sanity sometimes.

As he pondered over his observation his favorite riddle joined them. The Pyro had always fascinated him, it was impressive how well the man managed to hide his identity from them all. He had never seen him eating or taking a shower. Only twice he could catch a glimpse or two at the hands – back in the snow desert when they found the Scout and yesterday, when the man had assisted Medic tending to his injured leg. Those old burns looked ugly and made it difficult to tell anything about the Pyro's age or race, but fortunately his ability to work with his hands hadn't suffered.

Pyro's role had changed, too. He had always gotten along quite well with the Demoman, but now Spy sensed a deeper friendship with both Demo and Heavy. And, to his surprise, with the Scout. The one team member nobody really got along with and nobody really cared for. He did a good job, most of the time, but otherwise they all had agreed that he was an annoyance. It was not so much that he was a loudmouth, most of them enjoyed a bit of banter or resorted to bragging and locking horns. But nobody couldn't help regarding the boy as just that – a teenage boy, half a child with a too bloated ego for his age and background. And when the Spy had noticed the boy's crush on him he had felt more irritated than flattered.

Well, the Scout. He couldn't help giving a sigh at the young man's sight. He seemed to have settled down, not only a bit, but a lot. Obviously – as Spy had experienced the day before – the kid still was impulsive and aggressive. But for different reasons. It was nice to watch that the little pain now got along better with the others, and that he had formed some kind of friendship with Pyro was unexpected but good for both, so there shouldn't be much to worry about – if only the circumstances were different. On the one side, the youth apparently had grown up a lot lately, but on the other side he was like a terrified child as Spy could read from his eyes.

He certainly didn't reciprocate the kid's feelings and if they stopped it would be easier for both of them. Yet Spy didn't like the idea at all that the reason for that would be that the Scout projected his experiences with this Wagner onto him, Spy, as if they were one and the same person. And in spite of himself, besides feeling sorry for him, he also felt guilty – the whole situation, the alteration in the Scout's mannerism and eyes started to fascinate him. He knew himself well enough. Although he should let the matter be he would try to solve it sooner or later and that meant approaching the kid when he probably should leave him alone.

However, he simply had to get to the bottom of this and he hoped he would deal with it reasonably enough, without rekindling the boy's silly hopes.

But for now, this fear seemed to be absurd – the Scout had just realized that the Spy was watching him and had left the room at once.

The French sighed again. Yes, many things had changed within a short time and he wondered what his new role in this team would be in the end.

The group broke up a little while later. Once more they were in limbo, unless the train wasn't repaired they had to stay where they were and wait. What would or could happen now was as unpredictable as ever. Worrying too much wouldn't help much though, and so they could as well start with another daily routine – tightening the security measurements, patrolling and investigating.

It was the Engineer's idea that the Spy and the Medic, as they were both still weakened, should have a look at Smith's office; chances were good that they could find some information and with that some answers. For now they might have a shelter and food, and a good chance to finally move on. But be it getting out of the desert or understanding iwhy/i all this happened – things went painfully slow and for every little step forward they were forced to make half a dozen steps backwards.

Soldier and Engineer had decided that the first thing they would do after breakfast would be opening the few still locked doors. Right next to the canteen, where they sat right now, they expected the food and water storage from what the plans had told the Texan, and close to the machine room they should find weapons, tools and spare parts. Once they would have unlocked those, Heavy and Demo would check the supplies and their own weapons. And secure everything again, making sure that no Wagner or whoever could simply march in and play more havoc. After that, Engineer and Soldier planned to return to the machine room. Pyro offered to control the area outside, especially the cars. After transporting and burning the bodies they had been too tired to spend much more thoughts on the jeeps. They had to decide what should happen to them when they actually escaped. Or, in case the train couldn't be fixed – would they be a plan B?

The Spy shuddered. A few days ago his mind had accepted the idea of dying. Although he still had hoped to survive things hadn't been looking good and his death had been highly probable, too probable to be ignored. And suddenly he was back with his team and the odds were good that they would finally go home. With a smile he took the cigarette the Sniper offered him. He lightened it and inhaled, leaning back in his chair when the warm, bitter smoke filled his lungs.

After about a week without smoking he almost felt how every fiber of his bronchia was touched by the nicotine, how the calming, slow poison soon flowed in his bloodstream. With a deep sigh, he breathed the smoke through his nose. Gratefully nodding he accepted the whole, still half-filled package Sniper gave him, grinning inwardly, wondering if the Medic's little side remark from the last night would be enough to make him quit. Or if it was only a matter of time until the Sniper asked him for a smoke.

Time would tell.

He was almost surprised when Sniper didn't follow them, he had expected him to tag along once he and the Medic would leave, but obviously one glare from the German was enough to change the Australian's mind. Spy chuckled. In the past, he and Sniper had spent several amusing hours outside work, enjoying their free time with harmless and not so harmless flirts. Two things he remembered very clearly: Sniper had always preferred women – tall, proud, dark-haired women as the French now recalled – and he was a wild bushman indeed. Seeing him so easily tamed was funny and the Spy wondered if the Medic was aware of the power he held over the other man.

x x x

Searching Smith's office was far from being a difficult task. All files were neatly labeled and sorted, and most looked like they hadn't been touched very often. The bottles in the little bar on the other hand obviously had been regarded with more attention and Spy and Medic could guess Smith's priorities weren't focused on his job. They found the documents about their team first and browsed the few sheets. The documents didn't provide very much information, there weren't even mask-less pictures of Spy and Pyro.

"I know more about you zhan Smizh did." Medic shook his head. "At least I know all your faces. Look, Spy, zhere aren't even names. Yet zhese are zhe files zhat seemed to be used zhe most."

The Spy nodded. This was usually the information their boss gave their customers. Rudimentary details without revealing their identities. Just enough to explain and visualize the concept of the team. Why somebody had found this so extraordinarily interesting was another puzzle, but he could guess the answer.

"Well, zis Smiz' was an idiot, when somebody did 'is 'omework I doubt it was 'im."

"Hm. And I can zhink of only one person who must have studied everzhing he could find about us, no matter how trivial it was, and we probably zhink of zhe same person."

"Oui, mon docteur. Wagnèr, of course. Alzough I doubt zis was 'is only source of information." The French threw the file on the table and picked up another one. "What do you zink of zis?"

The Medic took the folder and browsed through its content. This one was far more detailed as it held information about the men their team members had killed and burnt yesterday.

"I vonder if zheir names vere aliases as vell or if zhey didn't even have real names." he finally replied. "Zhose files don't tell us much more about zhem zhan ours do about us. No birzhdays or places, nozhing about zheir families, medical histories... only zhose names, skills and zhis." With his right index finger he pointed at a capital "C" right next to the name "Echo".

"Oui, I see. Under ze point 'class'. Did you find anyzing about zat filzy bastard? If 'e 'ad a 'B' or 'A' we could be sure zat's zeir ranking-system."

"I wonder if he is a class of his own. Zhose are all inames/i from a phonetic alphabet, when I'm not mistaken. I do not know all of zhem, but I don't zhink one of zhem has 'Wagner' for 'w'."

Spy flipped through some of the pages.

"I am sure zis is ze international one, Nato standard. What was 'w' in zat again?"

"Whiskey."

Spy grinned and walked up to the bar.

"Good idea, mon ami. Ah, not zat look, zat does not work for ime/i. Say about ze good Mr. Smiz what you want, his taste in liquids was exquisite." Ignoring the words of protest about drinking alcohol at work he opened one of the bottles, poured the amber colored liquid into two wide glasses and offered one to the Medic.

"Do not be silly, docteur. Ze Demoman was drunk all ze time and it was tolerated. And you do not solely use your precious medicine when necessary, non? Yes, I know zat and now 'ave a drink."

With a sour expression the German took the glass.

"What do you zhink you know?"

"More zhan you zhink. Do not worry. Me, I just like knowing. But most of zis knowledge is save wiz me. And now – merci, dear Smiz, à ta santé!" He chuckled. Most of the men had their secrets, methods to keep sane and awake at daylight, and keep sane and asleep at night. So what if their Medic used to swallow sleeping drugs at night, and to fight the effects of them the next day with stimulants? They could die anytime, every day, what did it matter? Besides, since their prolonged stay in Dustbowl their doctor had been forced to stop resorting to his little helpers. As did Demoman. And he didn't want to know what ran through the Pyro's veins. Well, truth to be told - he was dying to know it. Yes, it felt good to be back, with all of them. He had missed their secrets, their banter, their little fights.

Just this moment the door opened and Pyro walked in.

x x x

Impatiently, the Scout waited for his friend's return.

"Fuckin' great, them always yellin' at me for runnin' 'way and now they leave me here alone. Smartasses." he growled and nervously looked around. About 15 minutes ago the Demoman had searched and found them, asking Pyro to come back because Soldier needed the young man's help for something technical and about explosives – stuff Scout didn't understand.

The Scotsman was needed, too, so he couldn't stay with Scout. No surprise that both the boy and Pyro wondered what Demo, or Soldier, were thinking, instead of sending someone to stay outside as well. At the suggestion to come with them and return to the cars with one of the others Scout only scoffed. Sure, being alone was risky, but he wasn't a baby after all, they should just send someone – Sniper or Medic – he could take care of himself for 15 minutes or so without a nanny. Finally, somebody came, but unfortunately the man he didn't want to see at all right now.

"Just freakin' wonderful, why did ya of all people... NO!" But when he realized his mistake he had already been pushed against the side of one of the cars, one hand holding him by his throat.

"Oh, you recognized me? Well, I might as well take this off then." With his free hand, Wagner removed the mask from his face. "On the other hand, with your darling Spy's injuries only an idiot would mistake us. Too bad, so this was the last time I entered the stage, acting the role tailor-made for me. Or rather..." He grinned, pointing at his face. "I was tailor-made for. Well, it must be sweet providence that you are the first one I find alone. Oh, what's wrong with you, my dear petit Scout? Didn't you miss me?"

He wanted to scream. To kick, to punch, to fight. But his body didn't listen. All Scout could do was staring at the man's scarred face, his eyes widened in horror, and even his voice failed him.

"Did I not teach you to answer when I ask you something? Really, my boy, did you already forget everything? In that case, some extra tutoring should be in order."

The gloating, sardonic voice filled the youth with fear, but he still couldn't move.

"Let me go." he croaked, and coughed when the grip around his throat tightened.

"I did not ask you what you want." Slowly, the man pushed the Scout's Shirt up and shoved his hand down his pants, his fingers pressing against the fresh scar on his hip. "You should know by now what this charming mark means. Right now, it tells you that you will come with me, amuse me and help me to..." A gunshot, and a bullet missing his head by a few inches only made him turn around, dragging the Scout with him and holding him in front of him – a human shield. Quickly, he drew his knife and pressed the blade against the skin of the boy's throat.

"Well, if this isn't my crippled counterpart." Wagner laughed.

"Well, isn't it a lucky coincidence zat a certain possessive bushman insisted on sending ime/i." Spy slowly but steadily came closer, his gun pointing at Wagner's head, but he hesitated. A clean, killing headshot was too risky with the Scout in the line of fire, a superficial hit would give the man enough time to kill the youth.

"Now, Wagnèr, let 'im go." he demanded.

"Aw, come on, don't be boring." Feigning a disappointed voice, he pressed the Scout with his free hand against his body, letting his fingers slide under the shirt, stroking the soft skin.

"The kid is young and vigorous, why don't we share?"

"No, zhank you, not my style."

The Spy snorted in disgust. The young man's eyes had lost their hate and contempt, instead, they were filled with desperation, pleading for help.

Wagner shrugged.

"Your loss. But I must insist that you don't come closer. We will leave now. Come, kid." Slowly, he retreated, pulling the Scout with him, who still was like petrified.

"Scout!" the French shouted and smiled when the youth lifted his head. "I'm sorry, lapin." Quickly, he aimed and fired his gun. The Scout screamed when the bullet first pierced through Wagner's right arm and then the boy's shoulder and finally stopped in Wagner's flesh.

With a loud curse the man let the knife drop and loosened his hold.

"Run! NOW!"

Finally, the boy reacted. At the Spy's word he pushed himself free and without looking back, ignoring the wound in his shoulder, he dashed off.

"Are you sure you are French, iJean/i?" Wagner chuckled when Spy stepped forward. "He's such a sweet, loyal and devoted little pet and you are not interested? At all? Or... are you?" He looked past the gun right at Spy's hate-filled face.

"Of course I am not interested in disgusting games like zis." But, as much as he hated to admit it, the boy's character had become more interesting and he felt guilty when he stared at the reason for this change right now.

"You sure? Even a second rate Spy like you should have noticed it. His beautiful, broken eyes. The absent minded, scared look on his face, torn between his admiration for you and fear of what you would do to him next time. Oh wait!" he correct himself with a laugh. "Not you. What iI/i would do to him. And it was so easy, thanks to his silly crush on you." His amusement vanished from his face, and with a wide, cold and malicious smile he continued.

"You are dying to know, don't you? That's why I'm still alive. The stupid kid would do ieverything/i for you. Even let you – me – tie him up."

"Shut up!"

"He's pretty skilled at giving blow-jobs, you know."

"Wagnèr, I warn you, shut up!" Glowering, he pointed his gun at the man's cruel face, but he didn't even flinch. He only smirked.

"Do you want me to describe his delicious, muffled screams when I shoved my dick into his tight virgin ass, Spy? Want to hear how he trembled with pain when he thought his beloved Spy fucked him, finally iloved/i him?" he bellowed with laughter.

"Enculé de fils de pute..." He shouldn't have listened, he should have shot him at once. And the shock and intense pity he suddenly felt shouldn't have let him hesitate any second longer; and when he finally pulled the trigger Wagner dodged with almost inhuman swiftness before the bullet had left the gun. With one leap he tackled the Spy who lost his balance, his leg not being able to stand firm. His weapon flew away and landed in the sand, out of his reach. With his good leg he tried to kick the man, but Wagner already dug his fingers deep into the Spy's injured leg, and the Frenchman screamed at the pain as he felt how the freshly closed wound opened again. Wagner only grinned, put the tip of his forefinger on the Spy's forehead and made a clicking sound with his tongue.

"Bang! You are dead!" Chuckling, he got back to his feet and ran to one of the cars, jumping in.

"Wait, you...!" Spy hissed and tried to stand up, searching the ground for his gun, but Wagner had already started the engine.

"Merde! Merdemerdemerde! Mon dieu, lapin. 'ow could you be so blind?" Aghast at Wagner's words he stared after the car, still sitting in the sand, and cursed. How should he ignore the whole matter now? And how could he have been so stupid and let this bastard escape? Then, from behind, he heard a voice shouting his name. More or less. He turned around and saw Pyro as the man ran towards him, the shotgun ready.

"You are too late, mon ami." Spy smiled grimly when the small man had reached him and helped him up. "'ave you seen ze boy?" He sighed with relief when the Pyro nodded.

"Y's. He c'me back, run'ing l'ke the dev'l was afte' him." Pyro paused a moment before he hesitantly continued. "He ran rig't i'to the bathr'm and tur'ed on the sho'er, cl'thes on a'd all. Me'ic's tre'ting his shou'der, but Sco't do'sn't ta'k. W'at the 'uck 'app'ned? W'gner w's he'e, w'sn't he? F'ck." he added when Spy nodded.

"Did 'e say somezing?"

Pyro looked at him and although Spy couldn't see his face he felt how the small man frowned.

"I tri'd to find out w'at was wro'g 'nd to c'lm him d'wn, b't all he sa'd w's 'Go! H'lp him!'. Spy, I k'ow you don't retu'n w'at he fe'ls fo' you, don't m'ke thi'gs w'rse."

The French couldn't help laughing, but it sounded bitter.

"I know, mon ami. But I cannot ignore everyzing, n'est-ce pas? Ze boy 'as been raped because of me, by a man using my face and my voice. You are 'is friend, any idea 'ow to make zings better instead of worse? Zought so." he concluded when Pyro shook his head. "Let's go back and see if 'e 'as calmed down a bit."

"'t is my fau't. I sho'ldn't 'ave l'ft him h're alo'e. I w's too car'les'."

"Do not be too strict wiz yourself." Spy put one arm around Pyro's shoulder and patted him comfortingly as he limped next to him. "But at least I am not ze only one who feels guilty."

x x x

"DID MAGGOTS EAT YOUR BRAIN? I TOLD YOU OVER AND OVER AGAIN! NOBODY SHOULD BE ALONE, DAMMIT!" Soldier shouted when they all sat in the canteen the same evening. Pyro and Scout didn't say anything, after all, he was right. The Scout felt horrible, not only because of what happened. Whenever he had been alone lately it had caused troubles. Getting lost was one thing, but not even being able to stand at one and the same spot for 15 minutes was a shame. Pyro had tried to take the whole blame, but Soldier knew his men well enough, Scout didn't even need to explain to him that he had insisted on waiting alone. Now they were one car short, but at least they knew that Wagner was still around and obviously didn't plan to stop his attacks on the team.

But all they knew was that he had attacked the boy and threatened to kill him if he fought back. None of them mentioned of what nature his assaults had been and of course Spy hadn't told them what Wagner had done in the past.

When Spy and Pyro had returned the youth had already changed into dry clothes, his shoulder mended, and his manners were cold and distant again. For a while the French had considered talking to him about what he knew, but then he thought it would be better to leave him alone for a while. It wouldn't help anyone when he cornered him when the Scout tried everything to avoid him.

But not all news were bad. Together with the Pyro's and Demoman's help the Engineer could finally repair and even improve most of the machines. He would probably need one more day and electricity would be back. Another two days and they should be able to start the train. For now, he had opened the last doors, they had access to the food and weapon storage now. And he had short circuited the security system, with one push of the right button all windows and doors leading outside would be shut tight with bulletproof shutters, and that was exactly what he had demonstrated a few minutes ago. Unless he typed in the correct code nobody was able to leave or enter the train.

Once the Soldier had calmed down they could skip to the next important topic of the evening. Spy and Medic told them what they had found in Smith's office, beside the bar. It wasn't as much as they had hoped, but at least they knew now that the train was still on its test run and was built by order of their own boss, the administrator. So she had definitely something to do with the events of late.

The folder with the files about the forty dead men was handed around. All papers were signed by the same person, but it was a different signature.

"Like team of other boss they are." Heavy pondered aloud. "Like fight of two teams of different structure this was."

For a moment, Soldier stared at him in silence and the Engineer let out a whistle.

"Ya sayin' this could be a test run, too? Like with that darn train?"

"Mother o' Mercy!" Demoman exclaimed. "Them 'gainst us, a test, and this bloody train was just takin' us to the battle? But what's that weasel's part?

"Vell..." the Medic started to explain. "Ve didn't find anyzhing about him. As you can see all of zhe ozhers are labeled as 'class C', so ve zhink zhey belong to anozher organisation. And Wagner does probably as vell, but he is a different, a higher class. But he vasn't eizher very loyal from zhe beginning or snapped here, it doesn't matter, I doubt zhat killing Smizh and everyzhing zhat followed belonged to zhe plan."

"Well, there is only one way to find out." Soldier concluded with a grim expression. "Once we are back the boss has to answer me some questions, if she likes it or not."

The others nodded in agreement.

"Count me in, mate. But I doubt that the bloody hag's gonna talk just like that."

"Sniper, when I say she has to answer some questions then she is going to answer some questions and that settles it. You are dismissed for now. Engineer, let's go back to the machine room, I have to talk about something with you. Spy, what is so funny?" Suspiciously, he turned around and glared at the chuckling French.

"Nozing, mon dear Soldat, nozing."

x x x

This night it took them longer to find sleep. The last rest had been long and needed, but today none of them had had many opportunities to do physical work.

Muttering several curses about ungrateful, careless patients the Medic had closed the Spy's wound again and threatened him to give him enough sedatives to let him sleep for the next two weeks. Engineer and Soldier had been busy all day with the machines, only Scout was worn out, not knowing that both Spy and Pyro were aware of the reason for his emotional exhaustion.

Sooner or later all of them had fallen asleep eventually, and filled the room with their snores. Only one man lay awake, the eyes wide open, and peered into the darkness.

The Sniper almost gave a scream when suddenly someone shook him by his shoulder.

"Shut up, I don't vant to vake everyone up. Come, I need your help."

Surprised, and his mind not even half awake, the Australian climbed out of his bed. He didn't need to bother with dressing. Although they should be rather safe, all of them preferred to sleep in their clothes, just in case.

Once they stood in the corridor he turned to the waiting Medic.

"What's the matter?"

In the flickering light the German's face looked pale and unhealthy.

"Dammit, ya weren't sleeping again, were ya?"

"Jaja. Remember vhat ve talked about last night?" Impatiently, he gave the Sniper a push, urging him to go on.

"Uh, we talked about more than one bloody thing, ya know?"

Careful not to make too much noise the Medic opened the door to the canteen, shoved the Sniper in and closed the door behind them.

With a puzzled expression Sniper watched him as he took off his shirt.

"You don't have a reason to grin zhat stupidly, zhis is not vhat I meant." the man scolded him and Sniper got aware that he really had been grinning. But he stopped as he realized what this was going to be about once the Medic removed the bandage from the cut-in swastika.

"Will, I told ya, let that bloody thing heal and we're gonna find a way to get rid of it later."

"I von't let zhis heal and I'm getting rid of zhis right here and right now and I vant you to help me." Medic replied decisively.

"How?" Sniper felt completely clueless, even more so when the German threw a squared piece of metal at him. He caught it and inspected it.

"What is that?"

"How should I know? I'm a Medic, not an Engineer. Found some of zhose in zhe veapon storage, between zhe tools."

"I hope ya don't expect me to cut that thing out with ithat/i. A knife would be... forget it, ain't gonna cut ya with anything here!" he protested, throwing the iron plate back at him.

"Don't be silly. Zhere's a spare gas ring in zhe kitchen unit. I vant you to heat zhis and press it on zhat zhing." Medic explained impatiently. "You promised me you vould help me yesterday." he insisted when he saw the Sniper's face.

"Are ya completely nuts? Are ya really thinkin' I'm gonna brand ya like a cattle? Forget it!" He seized him by his wrist. "Let's go back. Ya need sleep. Lots of sleep, ya bloody brain's all muddled."

But the man pulled himself free.

"So zhat's vhat your friendship is vorzh. Nozhing! Should have zhought so." the Medic snapped. "Eizher you help me or I do zhat alone."

"Ya don't think I'll just go and leave ya alone now! How stupid ido/i ya think I am? What's so fuckin' wrong with waitin' a few days? Wear a shirt and nobody ain't gonna see that bloody thing!" he tried to reason with him again.

"It's just zhat easy for you, isn't it? Vhat vhen I look into zhe mirror, vhat vhen anybody sees me in zhe shower? Vhat vhen I die before ve return? Vhat vhen somezhing explodes, Wagner shoots me, I fall and break my neck, vhat vhen I die tomorrow, do you know how long it takes for a body to rot? I don't vant to lie in zhe god damned earzh or dirt vizh zhis god damned thing!" He started calmly, but the last worst he almost shouted, both angry and tensed.

"Will, I beg ya, don't be an idiot. Ya ain't gonna die anytime soon, that's crazy." the Sniper growled. Carefully, he let his fingertips rest right above the wound. The skin was warm against his cold fingers and he could feel the other man shiver for a second. He moved his hand upwards and stroked over the bruised skin of the Medic's throat.

"It's not that I don't understand ya, but... Ya had a hard time lately, and I wouldn't be a good friend if I help ya mutilating yaself."

"Unsinn." Angrily, the German pushed him away. "A good friend vould understand vhat zhis means. I zhought iyou/i vould, after I told you zhe vhole story. You disappoint me. I vasted my time vizh you. Go avay." he finished coldly.

"Will..." Gently, he put his hand on the man's shoulder.

"Don't you dare touching me. Help me or go!"

Sniper hurriedly withdrew his arm, hurt by the loathing tone of the voice. He looked at the cut, then at the piece of iron that lay innocently on the table next to them and tried to imagine how he would use it to burn the Medic's skin. Sadly, he shook his head.

"Sorry... even if I wanted... I can't do that..."

"Vell, zhen I don't need you anymore. Go."

"But... Naaah, this is just crazy, Will, listen..."

"W'at's go'ng on h're? Eve'ything a'right?"

Both of them turned abruptly to the door. None of them had noticed how Pyro had opened it and walked in, the flamethrower in his hand.

"Vhat are you doing here?" Medic asked blankly while the Sniper just stared.

"Heard 'ow som'body l'ft the dorm 'nd w'en no'ody came ba'k I follo'ed you, ch'cking if anyth'ng h'ppened. Th'n I hea'd you a'guing."

"Pyro..." Thoughtfully, the German looked at the small man and his hidden face.

"Did ya hear what that wanka wants me to do? He wants me to burn that bloody scar away like he was some stupid ox!" the Australian blared out, agitated. "Talk him out of it, Pyro!"

"Me'ic..." The young man sounded helpless.

"You... understand, don't you?" The Medic still watched him closely.

"Yes, b't S'iper is rig't, th's is ins'ne. And da'gerous..."

"Pyro, if zhere vas a quick vay to remove your scars of zhe past, vhat vould you do? Forget about it because of some small risks and a bit of pain?"

Suddenly, the Sniper felt left out. Even without seeing the Pyro's face he felt that they were talking about something he couldn't understand.

"A'right, I w'll do it. B't we use the fl'methro'er, it pr'duces the nec'ssary heat 'nd the gas flam' won't bl'cken the iron 'ith soot. Do you 'ave a pai' of to'gs, so I c'n to'ch the hot m'tal?"

"HEY! Are ya two completely mad? Ya know whaddya talkin' 'bout, Pyro? Ya can't do that!" Sniper almost shouted and positioned himself between the two men, facing Pyro.

"I kno' t'at you can't do it, it's ok'y, j'st..." the small man began, but the Medic interrupted him by stepping past the Sniper and glaring at him.

"You have talked enough. You are a vaste of oxygen and of my time. Go! I don't need you here, you and your pazhetic friendship." he hissed. "You are useless!"

"Will, ya ain't meaning that!" He took him by his shoulders, his voice almost as desperate as the Medic's the night before. "Yeah, I can't do that, but let me at least stay..."

"Touch me one more time and I file an official complaint." the Medic scowled. "Are you deaf or just stupid? Go! Hau ab! You disappoint me. You and your silly vays and talks and touches are a pain. Gott, I can't stand looking at you. GO!" He yelled the last words and finally, the Sniper let go of him and turned away, heading for the door.

"S'iper!" Pyro called after him, but he didn't turn around.

Once outside, the Sniper closed the door behind him and was about to leave, not necessarily back to his bed, but away from this door, somewhere where he could find a quiet corner. But then he hesitated. Hurt and desperate he leaned against the wall and slid slowly down until he sat on the floor.

"That's it, it's finally over. Before it began."

Letting his head rest on his knees, the eyes closed, he waited. A few moments later he heard a long, suppressed scream that died away some seconds later. The smell of burnt flesh reached his nose.

x x x to be continued x x x

_Sorry, we are one day too late again ^^_

_So much drama ^^ But no tears, guess that's something xD_

_Translations:_

_à ta santé = Cheers/Here's to you!_

_"Enculé de fils de pute..." = "Motherfucking son of a bitch" (that's what google says, if that's wrong please tell me! ^^)_

_Unsinn = nonsense/bullshit_

_Hau ab! = Get lost!_


	32. Chapter 32

**Snowbowl 32 – Going back**

Sometimes, the Soldier felt tired. He had neither assigned nor asked for the position as the leader when he joined the company, it somehow had happened after a while. Within a team made of men who had always worked alone he had been the only one who had learned to work together with others in battles, how important it was to rely on others and that others could rely on him.

Being the only one with practical experience of real teamwork he soon had started to influence the other men's actions, combining their skills, evening out their weaknesses and making the most effective use of their strengths. And so, without trying or striving for it, he and his teammates accepted his role of the leader of a team with nine elite mercenaries, proud and vigorous men.

But on days like this he just felt like the governess of a group of stubborn kindergarteners.

"Alright, boys." he growled and looked with a frown at the Sniper, Pyro and Medic. "Let's start again from scratch. Pyro returned in the middle of the night with a knocked out Medic and of course nothing happened and of course Sniper, who was on watch, didn't see anything. Sounds legit. And now, would you kindly EXPLAIN TO ME WHY OUR ONLY MEDIC LOOKS LIKE SHIT THIS MORNING?"

But all three men only shrugged, neither looking at him nor at each other. Soldier sighed. When they didn't want to talk he couldn't force them.

"I am fed up with your nonsense. Sniper, Medic, whatever is wrong with you this morning, I warn you, if it effects your work and endangers the team I will make life unpleasant for you! Understood? Good." he continued when both men nodded.

"Pyro, how is his condition? And don't give me more bullshit, I expect an honest answer!"

The short man passed a glance at the Medic, who shrugged with only one shoulder.

"W'll... The cut fr'm his fi'ht w'th Wa'ner... got i'flamed. I t'k ca'e of the wo'nd, b't he w'll hav' tr'ble m'ving his arm w'th ease. He 's st'll exha'sted, but oth'rwise he is 'kay. L't him r'st a bit m're."

Soldier nodded, ignoring the Medic's snort.

"Good, Medic, you stay inside, it's a day off unless your skills are needed. Anything else I should know?" He waited a few second and finally gave up, although he was sure that all this was only half the story. But he had wasted enough time with this matter and the smell of fresh brewed coffee started to distract him. While he still wondered if he could or should try something else to receive more information, Engineer passed by and offered him a cup of the steaming hot liquid.

"Thanks private. Good. Or not good. But we have more important things to do than dealing with your post-pubertal shenanigans."

"Hey, Soldier, how 'bout lettin' them boys alone and having some food?" The Texan had joined the rest of the team and was already chewing on a piece of dried meat. Of course everyone had been listening, Soldier was aware of that, even when everyone pretended to be busy with his own plate. Grumbling to himself he sat down across the Engineer and bit violently into a slice of dried bread. From the corner of his eye he noticed how the Medic and the Sniper tried to avoid even looking at each other. Well, this was nothing new with the German, but that Sniper chose a seat on the other end of the long table worried him a bit. Small fights and disagreements were nothing special, those happened all the time between all of them. Things usually calmed down after a while. Always. And as long as there was no real hostility he didn't interfere. But this was different from the usual quarrels. The veteran emptied his mug, ignoring how the still hot coffee burnt his tongue, and hoped that things would work out soon on their own. Experience had once taught him how dangerous it was when hate and distrust poisoned the spirit of a team and he was determined that he wouldn't stand and watch another unit of excellent men fall apart and destroy each other.

Now that his lecture was over the others started talking again. The whole atmosphere was split – this part of the train offered more luxury than their previous shelters. They didn't have to worry about food for a while, the provisions were generous. No surprise, considering they were meant for more than 40 people. Even more important than food – they had water. And guns. And although they were yet again forced to share one room for sleeping they had simple, but real beds and more space. As long as they didn't decide to camp with the Engineer in the machine room or in Smith's separate sleeping chamber the feeling of constriction had decreased notably. To feel safe was all too tempting under these circumstances and there lay the danger. If they were too relaxed they might lower their guard. Yet everyone of them wished for nothing else than a day of relaxation or two.

Soldier knew his men needed a chance of recreation to stay sane, he was no different from them in that regard, but now was not the time. The Engineer spent most of the days between gears, engines, cables and computer terminals and worked hard, too hard. Nevertheless the veteran grew more and more restless, wishing things would go even faster and he needed to control his own impatience or he would put more pressure on the Texan who gave him a sanguine smile just this moment. The always optimistic attitude - so typical for the Engineer - never failed to cheer him up and Soldier's nerves calmed down a bit. Whatever might happen, he could always trust the other man to be there for the team – for him - and to do his best. He smiled back until the conversation next to him caught his attention.

"Demoman, too much you worry. This Wagner is good, but not best." Heavy was just responding when the Scotsman had wondered what other ugly surprises they would have to expect.

"Aye, sure he is not the best there is or the best there was. And not the best there will ever be, laddie. But ye better be careful and not take them mutt too lightly, I tell ye." Demoman insisted, pointing a half-eaten piece of jerky at the Russian, who looked thoughtful.

"Not lightly him I take. Think. Was plan Medic and Spy escape? Was plan doctor kills two of his men? Was plan he lost train? Maybe in desert now he sleeps, this is stupid plan, leading us here and leave." Chewing his bread contentedly Heavy chuckled.

"You forget zhat he vanted zhe drug I had used... and had vizh me. He didn't get zhat from me, I doubt he planned zhat it vould be destroyed in front of his eyes." the Medic added and Heavy nodded.

"See, Demoman?" he continued. "And Sniper fighting back was not plan. Us killing all his men. And explosion in train. Scout with him he could not take yesterday. Being shot was not plan, too. Good he is. Very good. But perfect he is not. Things fail more and more."

The Scotsman laughed when he remembered the long, last two days and the Soldier grinned while he listened to his men. The tables seemed to have turned to their favor, but now it was important to keep them this way before their enemy could conduct his next scheme.

"Ain't never no good to rejoice ta early, son." the Engineer's placid voice pointed out. "We don't know what little tricks Mr. Sonovabitch still has up his sleeves. But we are not helpless, and Heavy's right. Them things are not looking good for him. Better be careful and watch ya step everyone, but just because he's actin' up like he's already the winner ain't making him no winner."

"Ye right, Engie." Demoman admitted while he helped himself with another cup of coffee. "That bloody pest's laughin' 'n jabberin' shouldn't impress us too much."

"That's the spirit, boys." Soldier was disgruntled with himself because he, too, was guilty of being too easily affected by this Wagner's haughty attitude. Otherwise the man wouldn't have been able to escape unhindered when they tried to save the machine room from the flames. This wouldn't happen a second time. Even if he rather wanted him alive and question him for a good deal he wouldn't hesitate the next time they met and kill him if necessary. And there was no doubt – of course they hadn't heard the last of him, sooner or later he would strike again and the veteran couldn't await this moment, he only hoped he would be there. But one step at a time.

"Keep your eyes and ears open and pay close attention to everything that seems out of place, and closer attention to everything that seems to be normal. But for now I have another job for you to do. Three of you will take one of the cars and go back to the other part of the train and take with them whatever might be useful, be it for us or for Wagner." He paused and looked at their faces. Medic and Spy were out of question, Scout and Sniper were still injured, but well enough to do smaller jobs. Engineer had his own task. Pyro, Demoman and Heavy were in a pretty good shape, but he didn't want to send all three of them. But he was pleased - no matter what reason ruled them out, each of them looked eager and motivated, even the Sniper, whose gloomy, pensive attitude had worried him this morning.

"Heavy, Pyro, I want you to stay here and guard the train." he finally ordered, not completely convinced if his choice was the wisest. "Demo, Scout, you go back and I will come with you."

"Just a darn minute, mate." Everyone turned to the Sniper, now realizing those were the first words he had spoken today.

"I'm of no help here." the Australian continued, unimpressed by the sudden attention. "And I can't sit on the bloody roof all day and watch the area, that wanka'd spot me as easily as I could see him. Why ain't ya stayin' here 'n leave the job to me?"

"Are you sure, Sniper? What about your leg? Do you think you can already move around quickly enough?" Sceptically, Soldier studied the Sniper's face.

"It's gonna be good enough. Gettin' tired of sittin' around like a bloody idiot. It's just sittin' in the car and walkin' in the train, not runnin' a marathon."

"I don't know, Sniper. I appreciate your offer, but sending two injured men doesn't sound like a good idea." Soldier hesitated when the Scout spoke up.

"Come on, don't talk shit man, my legs are fine and I'm not injured 'cause of a fuckin' scratch!"

"Mon dieu, what a splendid idea." Spy chuckled. "A man wiz a sick leg, a man wiz a sick shoulder and a man wiz only one eye. Sounds like ze beginning of a joke, non?"

"Shuddap, frogs, it's ya fault! 'cause ya shot me, bastard!" the young man flared up, jumping off his seat, but the Engineer pulled him down again, although that didn't stop the Scout from insulting the Spy, who just ignored the angry accusations and focused on his coffee.

"Yeah, whatever." Sniper stood up, suppressing his limping as much as he could, and seized the Scout's arm, dragging him from his chair. "Let's go, gremlin, the car's not waitin' all day for ya."

"Lemme go, asshole, don't touch me!"

"They are crazy, all of them. This is nothing but a crazy kindergarten." Soldier sighed, rubbing his forehead as he felt a headache approaching, unaware that he had spoken aloud.

"Don't ya worry, pardner." Patting the veteran's shoulder, the Engineer chuckled. "All we need is a bit of peace 'n a nice, long holiday after this. Let Sniper and Scout go with Demoman, they gonna be fine. Pyro, can you take care of Medic and Spy before they drive ol' Soldier here crazy, too?"

"Vho do zhey zhink ve are? Some kind of children zhat need a nanny or zhey vouldn't behave?" the Medic began indignantly, his eyes narrowed.

"I do not know, mon docteur." Spy leaned back and emptied his cup. "Eh bien! Zere's is nozing like a nice petit-déjeuner to start a day."

x x x

"Ye gonna fall out of the car when ye keep jumpin' 'round like that, kid." Demoman warned him, half amused, half annoyed. They had almost reached their former shelter, the outlines were already visible in the distance and so far the trip had been uneventful. If it weren't for the Scout's sudden cries of alarm whenever something moved – or seemed to move, both Demoman and Sniper weren't sure if the boy really spotted rushing by, small animals or just imagined things.

"Don't blame me if he shoots ya first, cyclops." the youth snapped and sat down again.

"Lizards 'n rabbits ain't gonna shoot anyone, kid." Sniper growled, his mood being sour since they had left. "Havin' ya jitterin' 'round is gonna kill us before anything else. Shut up and sit still for a chance before Demo crashes 'gainst a cactus."

With a sulky expression on his face Scout tried to fight the impulse to jump up again. He didn't understand it himself, he felt restless and couldn't help it. All he knew was that he didn't want to go back to the second part of the train, and he didn't want to stay at their new shelter. If it were possible, he would have run, that was always the best method to calm his thoughts. Even if he couldn't run away forever, just feeling that he maybe _could_...

But the other two men wouldn't have a word of it, so he had to climb with them into the car and drive over sand and rocks, the muscles in his legs twitching.

"What's ye problem anyway, kid? Ye don't have to be scared, ye ain't goin' alone, as long as ye are with one of us he won't try gettin' his hands on ye."

Scout appreciated the Demoman's effort to cheer him up, in the past the Scotsman wouldn't have bothered – nobody would – but he wished he hadn't used this choice of words. At once they triggered the memory of the man's hands on him and he shivered, feeling cold and sick. Anxiously he looked around, hoping he wouldn't have to see him ever again, but also hoping he wouldn't miss any sign that might tell them that he was close.

"Ya better calm down, Gremlin. If ya go on like this ya gonna die of a heart attack and ya know that Medic... that all of us expect that's Soldier's or Heavy's fate one day." For a moment, the Australian fell silent again. "Stop worryin', kid, as he said, ya not alone out here, no need to be scared." he added after a while.

"Geez, guess ya scared yaself, old man, who says he isn't after you next? Finishin' his job with ya?" Scout tried to sound confident and aloof as he used to be in the past, but inwardly he was grateful.

Both Demoman and Sniper realized that and smiled.

"Maybe ya right, better stay close and protect us, will ya, please?" For the first time today, the Sniper grinned and the Scout made a rude face at him.

"Okay okay, I gonna keep my eyes on ya, just in case. Don't think I gonna do that 'cause I enjoy ya company, I just wanna be nice and help ya out."

Chuckling, the Demoman stopped the car.

"Got that, kid, thank ye so much. Anyway, there we are, let's get goin', the sooner we can go back."

x x x

Like yesterday, Soldier sat on the floor, leaning against the wall the farthest from the machine complex and watched. His own knowledge of mechanics was enormous but ended abruptly once it didn't cover combat weapons, so he kept silent most of the time. After the first few hours he had even stopped answering with a simple "yes" whenever the Engineer commented his own work and progress, or admired the advanced technology – all those things were Greek to the Soldier. As the Texan obviously didn't expect him to answer or even discuss several possible methods to fix and enhance the engine, the veteran contented himself with watching the Engineer's back while he soldered wires, tightened bolts or replaced broken gears, the only sounds coming from metal grinding against metal, accompanied by the Texan's rambling and mumbling. Soldier smiled whenever the Engineer praised or comforted steel or cables, even encouraging his tools and stroking the cool metal soothingly after he had cursed them, their ancestors and descendants. He had always been like that, treating inanimate things like they were people and sometimes the Soldier felt a sting of jealousy, only to scold himself right away because it was silly to be jealous of a piece of scrap metal.

"Hey, Dell!" he began thoughtfully after a while when the Engineer declared his love to a pair of flat tongs.

"Do you really believe that we will go home? All of us, alive?"

The Engineer put the tool away, pushed his goggles up and cleaned his hands with an oily rag while he turned around.

"Ya doubtin' that?" he asked back, raising his eyebrows.

"Don't know." Shrugging, he grabbed a bottle and threw it to the Texan. "I just fear that Wagner isn't the only insane one here. Almost half of the team is injured, Scout is returning to his usual, bratty self but looks like a ghost. Medic seemed to have crossed the line of sanity when he killed those men, and Sniper is acting weird today as well." He sighed, took his helmet off and let his finger run through his hair.

"Ah see where ya comin' from, John. But look at Pyro, he's gettin' along fine with all of us now. Scout's a pain sometimes, but he's young, John, and been through a lot lately. And he did improve already." He took a sip from the bottle and gave it back before he continued.

"Medic seems ta be hunted by some old ghosts, the shadows in his face show that plainly 'nuff. Guess we all know what Sniper's problem is, but he is a grown man, all of them are. Things will be fine, just give them boys a rest. Ah don't think they gonna run amok any time soon."

The Soldier laughed.

"If you look at it that way things suddenly appear to be fine. But can't fight your logic. Isn't it exhausting, always being that clever?"

"Nah, not really, and someone has ta untangle ya muddled thoughts once in a while, right? The only risk is that ya might get addicted to that."

"Untangling my mind or being clever?" he answered with a smirk.

"Both, John, both." He put his goggles over his eyes again. "Don't worry too much. Things are workin' fast 'n well, won't take much longer. Ahm gonna fix that thing for sure and in a day or two we are on our way back. We are goin' home, John. That darn thing's gonna take us outta here, all through the desert right to the ol' lady's desk. _All_ of us!" He walked over to the Soldier, took his hat, put it back on the man's head and knocked against it three times. "Better get it in ya big head. Are ya doubts the reason why ya don't wanna talk about the plan with the others yet?"

He nodded.

"Ah see. Well, that can wait anyway. Until then, they have 'nuff time to calm down and ah swear by the power of my wrench – if they don't, and if our puppy and his grump don't get it together soon ah gonna knock some sense into them before ya can come up with another lecture! Things will be fine, John. Changes are never easy, but ah think we are gettin' on nicely. Or did ya already forget 'bout us, rocket-boy?" He lightly knocked his wrench against the man's helmet and grinned, about to return to work.

Laughing, Soldier grabbed the Engineer's belt and pulled him back before the man could focus on his machines again.

"Not so fast, toymaker. I think I have a lecture about respecting your lover ready, with your name on it."

x x x

Although they had only been away for two days the place felt alien and deserted. They had left in quite a hurry and the few belongings they had were scattered in the former saloon.

As they had feared they were not the first visitors since their departure – the few food supplies were gone and so were several weapons and explosives, as the Demoman noted when he counted the remaining stickies in one of the boxes.

All of the ammunition of the pistols and shotguns were gone, too, and the Scout cursed. He hadn't brought much spare ammo when they had left and he hadn't inspected the weapon storage of their new shelter yet. Knowing his luck he wouldn't be surprised if there weren't anything he could need. Life seemed to be cruel to him lately.

To see that someone had rummaged through their belongings while they were away didn't make him feel better and although he would never admit it he dreaded to go from one room into another first. So he tried his best to stay either with Sniper or Demoman who both pretended not to notice the youth's uneasiness.

The older men's behavior confused him, although he couldn't tell why. If he were a bit older, or if he hadn't been less occupied with himself in the past he would have realized that the Scotsman and the Australian had somewhat changed their roles. In the past, the Demoman had been the unreliable one whose mood was often as unstable as some of the components of his explosives. When he had been drunk he was unpredictable and often grumpy.

Today, he was cheerful and optimistic, still a bit too careless but at least it seemed that he knew what he was doing.

The Sniper, on the other hand, who used to be easygoing and focused, was quiet and withdrawn today. Of course it wasn't unusual that he was clumsy with his leg, and his muscles still hadn't recovered completely, but in his way he was as distracted as the Scout, knocking over furniture or almost dropping a sticky bomb the Demoman had asked him to hold for a moment.

Scout didn't understand all that in this moment, but he sensed that he was safer around the Demoman, so he tried not to leave the man's side, relieved when the Scotsman didn't tell him to leave him alone.

Their trip was short as there wasn't much to do or collect. Scout wasn't sure if he should be glad that they didn't meet Wagner here or if he should be scared because that meant he might be everywhere right now, maybe even outside at the car or waiting for them somewhere in the desert or at the train. He hated the feeling of the man having so much power over his mind and whenever he felt like he couldn't bear it he snapped at the Demoman or at the Sniper, insulting or mocking them, but they chose to ignore his outbursts and he was grateful they did.

Soon they were back at the Jeep and ready to go back, after Scout had insisted on checking the car twice, fearing they could miss any hint that the man was close. He already sat in the back, a large wooden box with several chemical stuff he had never heard of on his lap, and the Demoman started the engine.

They had just left a few miles behind them when a strange sound caught the young man's attention.

"Uhm, guys, anyone of ya havin' somethin' like an alarm clock with ya?"

Sniper looked at him in confusion while the Demoman drove on.

"What ye talkin' bout, kid? Why should we?"

"Well..." He pointed at the box in his hand. "If ya don't have a better explanation I'm holdin' a fuckin' time bomb in my hand and it's tickin'..."

"DAMMIT KID GET RID OF THAT THING NOW!" Sniper shouted. "DROP IT!"

"NO! WAIT!" Demoman turned around and almost lost control of the wheel. "THEM THINGS INSIDE ARE FOR MAKIN' NITROGLYCERIN! IF YA DROP IT IT'S GONNA BLOW UP BEFORE WE ARE FAR AWAY ENOUGH!"

"WHAT KIND OF AN IDIOT STUFFS COMPONENTS FOR TNT IN ONE BOX?" Sniper yelled, holding back the Scout before he followed his first order.

"NITRO IS NOT TNT, YE STUPID WEASEL!" Demoman bellowed back, his eye glaring at the Australian.

"I DON'T GIVE A BLOODY FUCK WHAT IT IS, IT'S GONNA KILL US ANY SECOND! HEY, WHERE YA THINK YA GOIN', KID?" he yelled when the Scout suddenly jumped out of the car, the box under his good arm, and ran back to the deserted train.

He ran as fast as he could, stumbling over rocks and almost falling a few times, but always catching his balance in the last moment. If he fell while still holding the box it would have been that.

He didn't see how Demoman stopped the car, he only focused on the path in front of him, counting to 20 and hoping that the bomb wouldn't blow up before.

"16... 17..." he gasped, his head feeling high and light while his heart pumped faster and faster, blood rushing through his ear.. To his surprise he had almost reached the train, but that wasn't important now. He stumbled again, this time his foot got stuck between two stones.

"19...20!" he shouted the last number and threw the box with all his strength. His face hit the ground, but he didn't care about the pain. He spit out the sand while he turned around, jumped back to his feet and dashed away from the train. At this moment, he already saw the Jeep driving towards him.

"TURN AROUND!" he yelled as loud as he could, and a deafening sound behind him almost drowned his words.

"SCOUT! RUN!" both men shouted.

"Idiots, what ya think I'm doing here..." he hissed while metallic splinters flew around him, some of them cutting through his clothes and skin on his back. With one last leap he jumped on the car when it turned around and he let himself fall on the load space, panting, and laughing.

"Bloody Mother o' mercy!" the Demoman prayed. "Are ye alright, son?"

"Nevermind!" Sniper interrupted him."Are ya crazy, ya bloody idiot?"

Scout stared at the sky, the sun burning his eyes, sweat running down his face while his chest was heaving quickly. He still laughed when he replied. Slowly, the burning pain in his lungs disappeared.

"Both, guys, as crazy and as alright as I can be."

"At least ya seem to be in a better mood." Sniper grumbled, sounding more relieved than angry.

Scout grinned.

"Yeah. Guess I'm gettin' used to all this stuff blowin' up around us lately."

x x x

"And I tell ye, ye missed a mighty nice firework, lads." Demoman finished his story. The sun was already setting, painting the clear blue color of the sky over with a shade of glowing amber. The air stood still and the scorching heat was gone and after the return of Demoman, Scout and Sniper Soldier agreed to the Pyro's suggestion to spend a few hours outside before calling it a day. This time, the Spy didn't have to sneak around the sentry like the day before – Engineer had decided to deactivate the device guarding the entrance. This would also safe them; sitting close to the gun when somebody showed up and triggered it wasn't a good idea. Everyone enjoyed the warm, fresh air, although the sight of nothing but sand and sand and more sand was something none of them would miss in the future.

"A little gift from Wagner with love, eh?" Soldier growled. "Well, it's not like we planned to return anyway. Was the whole thing destroyed, boy?" He looked at the Scout who he had lectured before, but not without pride. The stunt had been dangerous, but if somebody could have pulled it through, then the Scout. And thanks to his quick legs and decision he hadn't lost three men. And the boy's face was looking brighter, the rush of adrenaline was just what he had needed.

"Well, to tell ya the truth..." The youth grinned sheepishly, scratching his head. "Dunno. Threw that thing away, ran like a cheetah and enjoyed the ride home."

"Aye, kid's been too busy laughing like a hyena." Demoman took the lead of the conversation again, enjoying to tell the story.

"KA-BOOM! Right behind the kid's back. He's damn lucky he ain't been pierced by the bloody scrap flyin' 'round. A mighty fine explosion this was, smoke dark like Loch Ness' bottom, flames burnin' in the center, but it even melted the metal..." He continued to rave about the beauty of the detonation until Soldier finally interrupted him.

"We get the picture. What is the condition of the wreckage?"

"Wha... oh! Well, uh, dunno, we drove away like the devil's been on our arses, but judgin' from the amount of sulfuric acid, nitric acid and... uh... guess it has a nice 'n big hole in the middle now, but it hasn't been blown to smithereens." he finished when he saw Soldier's stern glare.

"It is useless?" the veteran inquired.

"Aye, lad, not of use for us, the only thing intact is probably the water tank, and guess we ain't carin' for that anyway."

Soldier agreed.

"So zis was anozer exciting day, at least for you." Spy stretched. The others had brought him an intact set of clothes from the wreck and the stiff fabric itched around the wound.

"I tell you, mes amis, when we are back at 'ome I look forward to a fine glass of red wine. And a nice job zat does not ruin my suit."

Demo grinned and slapped on the Spy's shoulder.

"Hear, hear. Eh, not that I care 'bout ye suit. But a nice glass of Whiskey would be nice..." he said ruefully. "Ain't ye lookin' at me like that, laddies, me said _would_. Leave me my dreams, will ye? Bein' back, sittin' in a pub, braggin' to them ladies 'bout our little adventure... Aye, and blowin' up stuff that isn't our own, sounds good."

"I like ze way you zink, mon ami." Spy chuckled, lightening another cigarette. "'ow about ze two of us sharing a drink when we are back? Moi, I know a 'eavenly place, ze finest wines served by ze finest mademoiselles. Et des garcons jolis." he added, clicking his tongue."Ah! And zey serve drinks wizout alcohol. Ze Scout can come, too."

"I'll think 'bout it, frogs. Not that I need ya invitation, and when I wanna drink I..."

Demoman beamed at the Spy, ignoring the Scout's protest.

"Splendid. How 'bout ye, bowling ball, ye in?"

Heavy shook his fist at the Scotsman's direction, but smiled.

"Sounds good to me. But first to barber to go I have." They laughed as he sceptically stroke over the stubble on his head.

"'ow about you, Pyro?" Spy turned to the masked man who sat between him and the Medic. "But we 'ave to find anozer, uh, suit for you. Ze mask is not a problem zough."

Pyro gave a snort but to their surprise he nodded.

"W'y n't. 'edic. What do you want to do when we are back? You c'me a'ong, 'oo?" he asked the German who sighed.

"Vell, Pyro, I hope you have fun, but after taking a long bazh I have to attend to some of zhe paperwork I didn't finish vhen ve left, and zhen zhere are zhe reports for zhis job..."

"Docteur, vous êtes... you are too boring. Ha! Paperwork! You will come wiz us, we drag you along by ze feet of yours if we 'ave to." He blew the smoke out through his nose. "After your bazh."

"Too generous, Herr Spy. Bevare zhat I don't have to drag you home by zhe feet and treat you because of intoxication." From the corner of his eye he watched the Sniper who still avoided looking at him. The Australian hadn't greeted him when they had returned – he hadn't talked to him all day. Of course this was what the Medic had wanted – finally the idiot left him alone. But it was weird.

"Soldier, whaddya thinkin'? Can we let them boys go alone?" Engineer nudged the veteran's side.

"And letting them disgrace the whole team? No way, maggots! We come with you and make sure you show the discipline real men have to show at a party!" he barked.

Chuckling, the Heavy turned to the Sniper.

"Come with us you will as well? Drunk Soldier we make so no push-ups us give he can."

The Australian smiled at the Heavy and shrugged.

"Sorry, ya gotta count me out, mate. Haven't been at home for years, gotta see for myself if my old folks are alright."

Demo tilted his head, his face showing a somewhat nostalgic expression.

"Goin' home, eh? Have to admit, sometimes even me misses them old shires and lads. Holidays at home..." But the Sniper shook his head.

"Nah. I've been thinkin' about it, my parent's ain't gettin' younger. That's not gonna be a holiday, I gonna stay with them." he explained calmly, smiling wryly when the others stared at him in bewilderment.

"Are ya serious, son?" Engineer was the first one who recovered his voice. "Ya thinkin' of leavin' the team? For good? No more killin', no more journeys?"

"Dunno, Engie. Haven't been to Asia yet, when they are good 'n fine I might go there for a while. But yeah, I ain't plannin' to return. We had some good times, but ya know as well as I that this job is good but not forever. And I don't feel like quittin' in a bloody coffin one day. Well." Cutting off more questions he stood up, avoiding their eyes. "Who knows. When Dad's not doin' too well maybe I'll stay forever. Gotta see when I'm there. The coffee's empty, I'm gonna refill the pot." With that he turned around and walked back into the train, not listening to the babel that broke loose.

"You kn'w w'o is to bl'me for t'is. Go 'fter h'm!" Pyro hissed, low enough so that only the Medic could understand him. The German had remained silent and still stared at the half-opened door. His first impulse was indeed to jump up and follow him, but then he forced himself to stay where he was – wasn't that what he wanted after all, getting rid of this nuisance?

"He is a grown up man, he can make his own decisions. Vhen zhis is vhat he vants it's none of my business." It was the best that could happen, finally he wouldn't have to put up with the Sniper's stupidity anymore. 'Vhat should I tell him anyvay? Zhat I'm happy he vants to leave me behind again? Good. I couldn't care less.' He picked up his cup, gazing at the remaining drops; they really had run out of coffee.

"Verdammte Scheiße."

x x x

_Misleading title is misleading. This is not a delayed last chapter about a sudden return and living happily ever after, don't worry :)_

_Phew, this chapter took me forever, I've never stared at a blank screen that long. But yeah, finished, a bit late though. I'm sorry ^^_

_Quoted one of my heros of my teenage years here but I won't tell you where :P_

_Search this on youtube and listen to it after reading and add Scout :D (yes, I was in a silly mood ^^): Sqz5dbs5zmo_

_Translations:_

_mes amis = my friends  
><em>

_Verdammte Scheiße = Fuck!_


	33. Chapter 33

**Snowbowl 33 – Apologize!**

Why didn't it rain already?

Whatever happened, whatever they did – there was no break for them, never. The very minute they thought everything went well so far, the next thing happened, leaving them anxious and confused again. But no matter how much the latest decision meant for them, the night passed unimpressed, and when the next morning arrived like every next morning, the sky stretching above them was clear and blue, like the day before, and the sun shone, warming the cool air and sand.  
>Another day filled with sunshine and heat, more waiting and more sounds coming from the machine room. Voices talking, even laughing, a day like the day before, and probably the same as tomorrow.<br>The Medic was sick of all of it. It was about time to go home. Sleeping in his own bed, being back in his own office. Complaining about those careless idiots, running after them on battlefields and staying close behind them on other kinds of assignments. Just returning, to their home and their everyday routine, back to normality. Maybe wondering about the last few months. Cursing them; and after a while, the memory would fade and leave nothing but a few new scars and another story to tell.  
>A strand of his dark hair tickled him and he shoved it out of his face.<br>'And I really need a haircut.'

He sighed, still standing in the corridor close to the machines - the sounds of the Engineer's tools working with the metallic devices only faintly audible through the closed door – and stared through the window. Returning. All of them. He should have known that it had been delusional do expect a save return for the whole team.  
>Well. Maybe it would have been possible. If the train had been fixed faster. Or if they had taken over this thing earlier, instead of waiting. If he had been able to escape faster, or to react less slowly when fighting Wagner. Maybe if they had decided to leave Dustbowl earlier.<br>It didn't matter anymore, things wouldn't change afterwards. Decisions had been made, by him, by the team, by everyone, and there was nothing he could do about it, just accepting the facts and getting used to them. The circumstances might be strange. Crazy. Odd or even painful – if life had taught him something, then that after a while even the weirdest or most horrible things would feel normal if only enough time passed. Be it killing, hating, surviving, caring for a team or a nuisance that always came back after a while. The more he thought about it, the more certain he was that he would only have to wait until things were normal again.

Thinking about normal routines, the Medic remembered the first months with the team. How he had preferred to shut himself away in his rooms, only talking to them when their work was concerned. He used to be convinced this was the best way to avoid questions and old memories. Of any kind. After he had learned that there weren't any questions, that nobody would ask about his past and his reasons to assign for the job of the team's Medic, he began to value their company from time to time. They weren't a bad lot, no matter how often he had cursed them. The men respected it whenever he chose to keep by himself, as he respected their desire for personal space. As long as it didn't mean skipping routine check-ups. The point was, it didn't use to bother him when nobody talked to him. Until today. It was not like he was avoided. It was not like nobody talked to him. But he felt that they treated him differently since the Sniper's sudden announcement.  
>The Australian had ignored him after their last <em>argument<em>, something that hadn't surprised him. Although, as he admitted to himself, it was unusual. Of course it was about time that the Sniper finally respected his wish to be left alone. As for the others - whenever he had spoken with one of them today, he felt uneasy. No, they didn't blame him, they didn't ask questions or demanded anything of him. But when he finally had looked in their faces, he imagined seeing unspoken questions and accusations. He expected them to be there. The same way he had expected the Sniper to stop these shenanigans and to drop his act of avoiding him anytime. He was sure, sooner or later everything would be normal again. Maybe tomorrow if not today. And if not... he would learn to deal with the new situation eventually. He always did. And he wouldn't miss anything, as he told himself not for the first time this day.

It was the Pyro who interrupted his repeating thoughts. With a nod he answered the smaller man's call and followed him through the train, back to the now empty dining area. Pyro had been the only one who openly blamed the Medic for the Sniper's decision, and the German didn't know what to think of this behavior. Like all the other men he had been curious about the strange creature when he had joined the team, and he had considered himself lucky that he - due to his position as the team's only doctor - had gotten answers even without breaking the unspoken law of not asking any questions. The shy and timid youth had changed after a while, gained more confidence and obviously made some good friends, despite his unusual appearance and mannerism. Pyro hadn't treated the Medic with the same attitude of awe for a while now, not regarding him as an admirable, dangerous threat anymore, and the Medic didn't mind that. A kind of friendship, based on mutual respect, had been formed, but he had still been the older one, a teacher or adviser to look up to, a state both men benefited from.  
>But this had stopped since yesterday.<p>

"S't d'wn. I w'nt t' ch'ck t'e burn." The Pyro didn't even try to ban his anger from his voice. These were the first words he had spoken to the Medic today and while he removed the bandage he fell silent again, pressing and scratching over the red, blistered skin more than necessary. Although the German suspected that this didn't happen by accident, he didn't say anything, trying not to flinch, until the Pyro was done.

"Zhank you," he said with an appreciative smile while he buttoned his shirt. "You have learned a lot, Pyro, I zhink sooner or later you can take my place as zhe team's Medic." He should have known better than engaging the Pyro in a friendly conversation today, he should simply have thanked him and leave. Now, to his surprise, the smaller man suddenly removed his mask. Angry, dark eyes, embedded in a deeply scarred, disfigured face, glared at him.

"Shut the f..fuck up and a..apologize t..to him!"  
>Taken aback by the harsh, almost patronizing order, the Medic only stared at the Pyro.<br>"Don't l..look at me like th..that! Go and tell him y..you are sorry," the young man hissed, lifting his chin, as if to emphasize his words.

"Vhat... are you talking about...?" This was a stupid question, both of them knew that.

"You kn..know that damn w..well, but okay. You beh..haved like an a...asshole, now he w..wants to leave. And this is your fault!" the Pyro snarled accusingly. As a side note the Medic realized that the strong, negative sentiment obviously influenced the Pyro's stutter, in a good way. Nevertheless he didn't like to be spoken to like he was a child or an idiot – or both - especially not when it was about the Sniper. He narrowed his eyes, his own mood changing from blue to irritated.

"Vhat do you know? First of all, he is old enough to make his own decisions: if he vants to go, I von't stop him. Besides, I doubt he vill really leave, by tomorrow he vill probably have forgotten about zhis nonsense." He raised his voice, ready to add more of what he thought about their Sniper's resignation, but the Pyro interrupted him.

"Oh, I'm s..sure you are r..right," the young man snapped. "Which i..is why h..he gave Soldier h..his written n..notice today. Sure, S..Soldier said th..that he doesn't h..have a say in th..this anyway, b..but Sniper i..insisted. B..believe me, he is s..serious, and all b..because you are an ungrateful bastard!"  
>These news affected the Medic stronger than he wanted to admit. He had, of course, been aware of the possibility that the Sniper might actually be serious about all this leaving-matter, but it was not until now that he became aware of how convinced he had been that it was an empty threat. All of a sudden he remembered how they had met again, after twenty years. How he could see the same surprise he felt in the Sniper's face when they had recognized each other. A familiar face, the old aura of freedom and confidence, the memory of three bright days in a past that, after their separation, turned even grimmer than before. He could still hear how his dropped teacup had shattered on the floor, seconds before he left the room, mumbling something about postponing the Sniper's first examination before the Australian had gotten the opportunity to say something. After that, he had avoided him as much as possible.<br>He couldn't help wondering how the man, well, developed any kind of interest in him, considering the way he had treated him from that day on. And now he didn't know how to stop his hostile behavior.

Once more, it was the Pyro who brought him down to earth.  
>"M..Medic," he began. "D..don't y..you th..think th..that th..the t..team has gr..grown to...together a l..lot? I..I d..don't w..want h..him to g..go, a..and y..you d..don't w..want th..that, too, d..do you?" he explained softly, but the Medic didn't really listen to his words.<p>

"I never asked for his attention," he tried to justify his thoughts without paying attention to the Pyro. "He is a nuisance. It vill be better vhen he leaves, I don't like him anyvay..."

"Bullshit!" Pyro almost exploded, losing his calmness in an instant at this. "And th..that's th..the problem!"

"Vhat zhe hell is zhat supposed to mean?" Maybe he should simply leave the room, before one of the others chose to return for a snack. The whole debate was pointless.

"Th..that means th..that it didn't look l..like... well..." Pyro hesitated for a second, ruffling through the patches of curly hair that were left on his burnt skull. "It didn't l..look like you d..dislike him. When I stitched up th..the cut, w..well, you s..seemed to e..enjoy h..his pr..presence..."

"Zhat vas hardly a normal situation, I vas tired!" But the Medic's protest was ignored.

"And w..when I b..burnt y..you," the short man continued. "Wh..when y..you ha..had passed o..out, a..and h..he.."

"Vait, vhat? He vas zhere? I zhought he vent back to bed." He had really believed that his words had finally put him off for good that night. He didn't remember much of what happened after the hot piece of iron had scorched his skin and the pain and the smell had become too much for him to bear.

"Y..you thought w..wrong. He h..helped me t..to carry you b..back and y..you..." Pyro paused again, giving Medic a look the other man couldn't really place. Disbelief, reproach, he wasn't sure, maybe something else. "Kn..know what? A..ask him y..yourself. I..I bet he r..remembers. D..don't forget to tell him y..you are sorry."

The Medic shook his head. Arguing with the Pyro was a new experience and he was glad for the young man that he was finally able to forget about his shyness. But still, this was a very uncomfortable discussion and he didn't really know what to think of it. And what to make of Pyro's inklings. What could he have done... and did he want to know?

"So you are telling me to allow him to blackmail me?" Medic tried to change the subject, questioning the Pyro's intentions. He, too, was aware of the changes within the team - their teamwork had increased and reached another level of harmony. Even those members who used to be more left out seemed to have found their place, including Scout and Pyro. Regarded from that side, it would be a pity if they got separated now. But still...

"I'm telling you to b..behave like a de..decent human being. Like a..an _adult_," Pyro stated firmly, still staring at him. "Y..you fucked th..this up, so it's y..your job to m..make things right."

Yes, maybe he was right - even if he still refused to take any 'blame', he hadn't been in his right senses, and yes, maybe Pyro was right and this whole fight was childish, but still... whatever Pyro said or the Medic thought, it always came to this idiotic _but still_.

"Shouldn't you be a bit more, vell, less supportive of zhis..." Yet again, he tried to change the direction their conversation went, suddenly finding himself searching for the right words, already regretting what he was about to ask. "Zhis vhole idea of two men?" At least he succeeded in spitting the last words out like he thought of the idea alone as disgusting.

Pyro looked at the mask in his hand for a moment, and finally shrugged.  
>"M..maybe. I..I th...think I w...would have thought so, in the past. Before th..that happened," he concluded and pointed at his mutilated face. "Y..you kn..know th..the st..story. I became like this for who my father was. Th..the love of m..my life left me f..for what o..others did to my f..face. I lost h..her and m..my position in m..my family for th..things that weren't in m..my power. S..superficial b..bullshit." He sighed as he recalled the cruel events of his past. "I..I'm s..surprised b..by it m..myself. Yes, I.. th..think I w..would h..ave been d..disgusted. N..now I s..simply d..don't care. A..all I see a..are t..two i..idiots who be..behave l..like k..kids and a..are unh..happy be..because of th..things th..they c..can't help," he finished his thoughts and put on his mask.<br>"By t'e way, nob'dy said you shou'd be tr'cked into someth'ng you don't w'nt only to m'ke him st'y. Just do w'at you wou'd have d'ne if it w'ren't him – go and ap'logize."

"Because of somezhing _he_ can't help," the Medic corrected him stubbornly, his cheeks slightly blushing. Then he sighed. Yes, he knew the Pyro's story and the circumstances that had made him choose a life away from his home, his family and an easy, spoiled life that would always have reminded him of the loss of his health and his love. The young man had to grow up from one moment to the other and was, with all his tragic experiences, wise beyond his years. Apparently, Pyro had finally realized that.  
>"I'm not sure if I should allow you to speak vizh me like zhat," he grumbled, amused, feeling a bit better.<p>

"I d'n't ask f'r your permiss'n, M'dic," Pyro retorted while he gave the Medic a light, daring push towards the door. "That's w'at h'ppens wh'n a man tw'ce my age ac's like a st'pid teen'ger!"

"I am not twice your age!" Growling in earnest protest he glowered at the smaller man. "I'm..."

"Too vain 'bout your age f'r your age." Pyro finished the sentence for him, albeit not the way the Medic had intended. "Anyw'y, all o' us w'nt o'r Sn'per to stay. _You_w'nt him to stay. And you're the 'nly one w'o can ch'nge his m'nd."

"Ja ja, ist ja gut. Quit lecturing me, I understood vhat you said zhe first time." Impatiently, he stopped the Pyro's words with a wave of his hands. "It's not like ve have more serious matters to deal vizh, but alright, I vill go and talk to him. I hope you are satisfied now." Pushing away the thought that he really acted like an obstinate teenager, he left the Pyro behind.  
>He had to hand it to the young man - in spite of himself he knew that Pyro was, of course, right. In all things he had said. Even if the Medic still couldn't bring himself to admit that he didn't want the Sniper to leave the team, that he had gotten used to having him around, that it would be unusually quiet without being annoyed and harassed by that man... He shook his head, dismissing the thought, and started over again. He didn't want him to leave because that wouldn't be good, for none of them, especially not the team. That would have to do.<p>

As he strode through the last compartment's corridor, he almost ran into the Spy.  
>"I hope it is really you," he snapped at the French. "And not your Doppelgänger."<br>Spy only laughed and pointed at his leg.  
>"As you can see, mon docteur, mon leg is bad and my shoulder is fine. You do not 'ave a good mood, non?" he asked innocently.<p>

"I doubt zhat it is your business in vhat mood I am. Vhat are you doing here anyvay?" he retorted edgier than intended. The smug expression on the Spy's face irritated him; he didn't feel like talking to anyone, especially to the Sniper himself, about the whole matter with the nosy French close by. He adjusted his glasses and glared challengingly at the other man, but Spy remained unperturbed.

"I am waiting for ze Engineer. I want to go out, but as you surely remember – I cannot pass ze sentry. It would shoot moi. I cannot 'ave zat 'appen, you know. And you, ah, let me guess!" He smiled and leaned lazily against the wall, his arms crossed in front of his chest. "You want to talk to ze bushman." His grin widened as the Medic blushed, about to turn away.

"Zhen have fun vaiting, I don't zhink he vill be here soon," he remarked dryly, opening the door.

"Maybe you want to 'ear my advice, docteur," Spy called after him and Medic halted, turning around.

"Maybe you vant to take care of your own little, lively problem."  
>Spy chuckled at the reply. The Medic certainly was in a bad mood if he behaved like that. Well, it wasn't like he didn't understand the man's bewilderment. But the Medic would have to deal with it somehow. Yet he was right, Spy had to solve the matter with Scout sooner or later, and he wasn't looking forward to this task.<br>There wasn't much left from his former aversion against the youth, a fact that didn't make talking to him easier. A while ago he wouldn't have minded to hurt the Scout's feeling. However, now he hoped to avoid just that.

"I know, mon ami, I know." With a sigh, he pushed away from the wall and picked up the crutch the Engineer had quickly built for him. "I better do it quick zen. Zings can be over so fast, do zey not? Maybe ze boy is dead tomorrow. Killed. Shot. Engulfed by flames. Maybe ze Demoman blows everyzing up. Zen it would be too late." Intensely, and serious for once, he looked at the Medic. "Ze dead do not return. Zose who go 'ome never return. If we do not see zem ever again, it is like zey died. Gone forever. Bien," he concluded thoughtfully. "I 'ave to admit, I am curious. 'ow will ze new Sniper be, ze one we get when ze old one is dead, I mean, gone 'ome?"

"Alright, alright, I got it," the Medic answered impatiently, facing the door again. "Seriously, why does everybody zhink he is a wise man today?"

x x x

"Leave me alone. I'm busy."

"Vizh vhat? Counting sand grains?"  
>It was a mistake to come and talk to him. Whatever the others said, it couldn't be any more obvious that the Sniper wasn't interested in what he had to say to him. Before the Medic could even greet him, he was told to go away. Fine. It was not like he wished to see the Sniper either. This unruly, scruffy, crude, moody, mannerless bushman. He added 'pathetic' when he noticed the grim expression on the man's tanned face and his unkempt hair. Sure, the Sniper never paid much attention to his appearance, especially not since their stay in Dustbowl. But today he looked like he had just gotten out of his bed. After sleeping in his clothes. If he had slept at all. The Medic wasn't too sure about that, the circles around the Sniper's eyes were suspiciously dark.<p>

"Stop staring," the Australian snapped and stood up from the rock he had been sitting on, moving away from the Medic.  
>'Fine. Be like that, don't think that impresses me.' The German followed him, his eyes fixed on the lean back. However, he didn't want to fight. The sooner he came to the point the better.<p>

"I don't zhink it's right to leave zhe team behind just because of me," he finally declared, not too happy how the words he chose sounded once he had spoken them. "Vell, you see..."

"Wait," the Sniper cut him short, abruptly halting. "Who said I wanna leave because of ya? As I said, my parents are gettin' older, haven't seen them for quite a time. Ain't ya confident, thinkin' all I do revolves around ya?"

The spite in the man's voice was impossible to miss, and the Medic swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling dry. Of course. He had been a fool. Yes, he might have angered the Sniper – he would apologize for that – but it was wrong to assume that he was that important. To another man, like the Australian. He hated to be thought of as conceited and even more he hated a fact he couldn't deny anymore. The Sniper's recent behavior hurt. But he wouldn't give the man the satisfaction to ever know that.

"You... I didn't... and never... forget it. You are right. I'm sorry," he replied stiffly and shrugged indifferently, about to leave and return to find Spy. Or Pyro. Whoever he met first so he could show them what he thought of their silly advice. A hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Now, don't run away 'gain. Of course yar the reason of this bloody mess." He sighed and fell silent. Neither of them moved and again, the Medic wished it would rain, storm, even snow. Anything that would stop the mocking sun from being so disgustingly bright.

"Zhe team vants you to stay," he said when the heat and the silence became unbearable.

"What do _you_ want?"  
>A question that didn't surprise him, however, just because the Medic had expected it, it didn't mean he didn't dread the answer.<p>

"Ve need you as our Sniper," he replied vaguely, already knowing that the Sniper wouldn't be satisfied by this, but he tried anyway. "You belong to zhe team like everybody else. I know zhat and agree." His back straight and stiff, he remained still, ignoring the drops of sweat that ran down his neck. The heat felt worse on his shoulder where the Sniper's hand rested. The wound hidden under bandages and his shirt brought itself to his attention when it began to itch and feel sore, reminding him mercilessly of the night that had caused all of this. If he only hadn't lost his temper. If he only hadn't thought of asking the Sniper to help him. Pyro had been the better choice from the very beginning, but it hadn't even come to his mind to ask anybody else.

"Screw them, I give a bloody fuck 'bout their opinions. Do ya want me to stay or not? It's a simple, bloody question, why the hell is that so difficult to answer?" Anger and frustration made the Sniper shout his last words, and when his grip got stronger, the Medic pushed his hand away, finally turning around and facing him, meeting eyes that again seemed to look how he felt.

"Verdammt noch mal, ich weiß es nicht... I don't know! But yes. Yes, if the salvation of your soul depends on it – yes, I vant you to stay as vell. And I'm sorry, I shouldn't have treated you like I did zhe ozher day. If you vant, ve can forget about it, it never happened, alright? Is zhat enough for you?" He didn't even try to keep his voice low. He only wanted this horrible moment to be over, and now that he had apologized – not in the subdued fashion Pyro probably had wanted him to do though – maybe things would return to being normal again.

"Damn ya, was it that hard, ya bloody..." Sniper began, his voice still raised, but then he sighed, sadly looking at the Medic. "Thank ya. Shouldn't have tried to talk ya out of that crap. I know ya well enough, should have known it wouldn't work, right?" The smile that appeared on the man's face didn't look genuine. "Ya know, I'd like to stay. But I won't. Nah, listen please," he quickly added when the Medic was about to interrupt him. Biting on his lips, the German nodded, urging the Sniper to continue.

"Alright. Ya can say anything ya want, but lemme finish first. Ya know what I want. That's bad enough, but the real shit is, I know ya don't reject me 'cause ya don't like me. I said listen first!" He grabbed him by his shoulders with both hands now, softly shaking him. "I could deal with that. But hell, I know that's not true. And if ya weren't such a bloody bullhead ya'd admit that. But yar so stubborn 'bout it, it makes me sick!" He bent forward until their foreheads touched. "When I stay I torture both of us. I do us a favor when I go, and ya know it."

"So you vill leave me behind again?"  
>"What do ya mean by that?" In honest astonishment the Sniper stepped back, trying to understand.<br>The words had formed and been spoken before the Medic could stop them, regretting them at once, but it was too late to take them back. He might as well speak his mind now that he had started.  
>"Zhat's just like you, isn't it? Alvays talking big and zhen you go avay because zhings don't go your vay." This wasn't how he wanted to say what he thought, but his mind didn't work fast enough.<p>

"Are ya... talking about Germany? When I asked ya to come... Will, ya bloody idiot, ya told me to piss off! I'm sorry, but there was no way I could understand that as 'yes, thanks, I wanna come with ya.'!"

The Medic shifted uncomfortably.  
>"A man can change his mind, can't he?" he snapped back, still not ready to give up his pride. "You could have asked a second time instead of just leaving." This was ridiculous, he knew that. If somebody had treated him the way he had treated the Sniper, he would have made such a man's life unpleasant instead of trying to befriend him – and whatever – the next time they met.<p>

"Bloody hell, Will, can't ya tell me loud and clear what the fuck ya want?"

"No I can't, and I've told you vhat I don't vant! I don't vant you to leave zhe team!" At this moment, he hated himself for how pathetic he felt. And he hated the Sniper for forcing him to be like that, wishing he could simply push that idiot to the ground and cut him into pieces. Or at least punch him. Anything to vent his anger. Suddenly, the Spy's words echoed in his head.  
><em>"Ze dead do not return. Zose who go 'ome never return. If we do not see zem ever again, it is like zey died. Gone forever."<em>

Spy was right; but before the Medic could say something, the Sniper had come closer. Rough warm lips hesitatingly touched his and for once, he ignored the first impulse of pushing the other man away. Slowly, the pressure grew stronger. When he felt the moist tip of the Sniper's tongue carefully gliding over his lower lip, he realized that even now - despite all his rage and disappointment - the Sniper held back. It seemed long ago now that he once had used force. Many things had happened since that night in Dustbowl. Slowly, he opened his mouth, allowing him in. He inhaled deeply at the low growl coming from the Sniper's throat once their tongues touched.  
>Although the Medic didn't answer the playful, inviting movement, he didn't reject him, almost reluctantly accepting that it didn't feel bad to be kissed. To feel the other man's hot breath brushing his skin, to smell his distinctive, slightly smoky scent and to hear his husky growls.<br>He blinked when his glasses clashed against the Sniper's shades as the Australian had pulled him into a tight but tender embrace, and he raised his hand to remove them, his fingers accidentally touching a stubbly cheek. That was when he thought he saw a shadow moving from the corner of his eyes and, in sudden alarm, he broke away, feeling at once that his body missed the other man's warmth. What if he had really seen someone? And what if it hadn't been the Spy, who he had initially suspected of sneaking around? That curious bastard.

"I'm sorry. I should've known ya can't deal with that."  
>The annoyed voice of the Sniper caught his attention and he was shocked when he saw the cold, almost angry expression in his face.<p>

"No, vait..."

"Forget it. Ya never gonna change, you and ya bloody pride." The Sniper shrugged and turned away, returning to the place he had sat before, and picked up his rifle.

"Vould you kindly let me explain?" He had adapted the other man's tone at once. Stubborn, proud, or what not, he wouldn't let him, or anybody else, talk to him like that.

"Nah. I got it. Ya know, that's what's pissin' me off. One minute ya allow me to come close to ya, the next moment ya push me away, break my bones, yell at me, hate me." Brushing off the Medic's attempts to answer with a wave of his hand, he gathered his things and limped back to the train.  
>"I'm fed up with this bloody crap. Play with someone else."<p>

"Nicholas!"

The Sniper halted when he heard his name, but then the Medic felt at loss. Of course he could quickly explain what had happened. That he didn't mind, but was distracted when he feared they were observed. It was the truth, but now that he thought about it, it sounded like an excuse. But he had to say _something_.  
>"I don't play. Don't zhink zhat. It's just... damn it, I don't know. Vhat do you expect me to do? Begging you to stay?"<br>The Sniper laughed humorlessly.  
>"Ya wouldn't beg if yar or anyone's bloody life depended on it. And actually," his features became a bit softer. "I have to admit I like that about ya. Ya know, it's not like I don't want to stay with ya. But if I do, there are consequences. Ya don't accept them – I leave. Easy as that."<br>The Medic's eyebrows rose at that, not sure if he liked a deal like that or not.  
>"Are you going to blackmail me now?" he growled tentatively. An easy way out, no matter which direction he'd choose. But with an unpleasant overtone nevertheless.<p>

"Nah. Just being selfish for a change," Sniper explained calmly, pulling his hat into his face, the rifle resting on his shoulder. "What ya doin' is not good for me. And for ya. Please, think about it. If ya wanna give me a chance, come 'n see me. I'm gonna take the graveyard shift today and tomorrow night. I know ya don't like pressure, but that's the only bloody way. If ya don't come, ya don't have to say another word. It's fine then. Gonna rest now for tonight. See ya later, Medic."

This was wrong. Forcing him to decide for both of them what should happen. Giving him... how long – a day and a night, at max? The Medic didn't reply, he only watched him, how he shrugged, turned around and went away, until the tall, slim figure disappeared after boarding the train, slamming the door shut behind him. Despite the heat he felt cold. Everything was just wrong. The team was breaking apart, they couldn't risk to be careless. What if Wagner had been sneaking around just a moment ago? They were still stranded in this damned desert, with a broken train, half the team injured. He was aware of the whole seriousness of their situation and yet the thing that upset him most was being called 'Medic' by Nicholas although they had been alone.

x x x x to be continued x x x x

_Back after a long absence caused by drama-queening, bitching around, being stupid and sulking..._

_Back with not much development and far too much dialog -_-_

_I apologize and thank all of you who are still with me. You are the best!_

_I'm back now and will update more often, promised! And I'll try to get better!_

_(I know there are still many, many mistakes to fix with the older chapters. I haven't forgotten about it and will take care of them soon!)_

**_Translations:_**

_Ja ja, ist ja gut. = yeah yeah, it's okay._

_Verdammt noch mal, ich weiß es nicht... = Damn it all, I don't know..._


	34. Chapter 34

Dear readers, watchers, followers,

due to many of the changes on this page I've decided to not update here anymore.

I hope I'll see you again. If you wish to read the newest chapter of Snowbowl, please visit my accounts on deviantart (redheadligeia) or on yourfanfiction:

Yourfanfiction dot c o ?uid=304

I apologize for this annoying kind of update when you thought to finde something else here, please forgive me.

Thank you for your understanding :)

~Ligeia


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